


a question of faith

by volantium



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Multi, Parental Abuse, Period Typical Attitudes, i literally dont give a single fuck about the canon timeline whoops, i really dont have a fuckin clue what im doing, rating + warnings + tags may change, steve is a fucking mess but we love him, vague nancy and jonathan bashing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-02-18 19:41:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 37,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13107171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/volantium/pseuds/volantium
Summary: The pink sunset casts a soft glow across everything. Steve can’t help thinking that Billy looks gorgeous like this. Seemingly asleep on the top of his car, mellowed, soaking up the last few rays of light.“What’re you looking at, Harrington?” Billy says a few minutes later, voice deep and raspy, eyes barely open.Steve thinks about brushing it off – Billy said it low enough that Steve could pretend he didn’t hear him. But he thinks about all the flirting. Billy chasing him, rather than the other way around. Knows that they’ve grown closer, reflects on what they’ve gone through in the past few months. Billy taking this entire manic government conspiracy in his stride. The fact he’s here with Billy now isn’t lost on him. Steve thinks that he should’ve recognised that feeling of an oncoming storm long ago.So, he replies softly, “Just you, Hargrove.”ALTERNATIVELY, a retelling of season 2 with added billy hargrove and an absolutely butchered timeline of events // fic and chapter titles are from the song 'question of faith' by black rebel motorcycle club





	1. the world at night

“He’ll kill me! He’ll kill us!” Max’s voice shakes.

Steve hears the roar of the Camaro cut off. He murmurs to the kids to stay quiet before walking out onto the porch. Billy leans against the hood of his car, smoke curling in the air from his cigarette. Steve sighs.

“Am I dreaming, or is that you, Harrington?”  
  
“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t cream your pants. What are you doing here, Hargrove?”  
  
“Could ask you the same thing.”  

Steve entertains making up a convoluted excuse before saying something at least half true, “I’m babysitting.”

“No shit?” Billy laughs, “Really? King Steve, _babysitting_?”  
  
“Cut the bullshit, Hargrove. Why’re you here?”

“I’m looking for my sister, you see, and I heard that she was here.”  
  
“Well, I don’t know her, so you can piss off.”  
  
“You sure? Small, redhead, bit of a bitch?”  
  
Steve shakes his head, trying not to betray the fact that his heart’s beating a mile a minute, “Man, were you dropped as child or what?”

Billy pushes himself off the Camaro, dropping his cigarette from his mouth and crushing it under his heel. His eyes cut to the window, Steve notices, and he hopes to God that the kids weren’t so stupid as to watch. A wild, wolfish grin splits Billy’s face, smoke pluming out of his mouth.

Billy’s so close that Steve nearly chokes on the pungent fumes of his cologne, points over Steve’s shoulder, and says, “Then who is _that_?”  
  
Steve whips around, and sure enough, he sees the kids duck out of view.

“Look, shit, Hargrove –“  
  
“I told you to plant your feet,” Billy says at the same moment he pushes Steve to the ground.

Steve’s back thumps against the dirt, air rushing out of his lung. Billy steps over him on his way into the house. Steve scrambles up, knees digging into the ground. He leans against the porch railing as his head spins.   

“Well, well, well,” Steve hears Billy say, “Lucas Sinclair, what a surprise.”

Steve makes it through the front door. Billy’s facing Lucas, but he’s speaking to Max, “You should know what happens when you disobey me, Max.”

Steve’s eyes narrow at Billy’s sinister tone.

“Billy, don’t,” Max takes a step forward, placing herself in front of Lucas.

“I break things.”  
  
Billy lunges forward, knocking Max sideways, and pushes Lucas into a shelf.

Steve bolts towards them, hands twisting into the leather of Billy’s jacket and pulling him back.

“You need to lay off, man!”  
  
Steve can see the wild look in Billy’s eyes, and thinks it’s not a good idea to piss the guy off any further, but hey, here he is. Better him than Max, than Lucas.

Billy doesn’t say anything.

“What’s wrong with you!” Steve carries on, “They’re just kids!”

“Max knows what she’s done wrong.”  
  
“Yeah? And what is that exactly, Hargrove?”  
  
Billy turns back around to face his step sister, and says, “Hanging out with Sinclair, when I told you not too. Not being where you should. Sneaking out of the house,” Billy’s voice deepens, “she deserves whatever shit she gets into for _this_.”

Steve throws the first punch.

Billy’s eyes are wide and adrenaline courses through Steve’s veins as he ducks a fist. Billy crowds him into the kitchen. Steve manages to land a solid punch against Billy’s face, and Steve sees blood run from his nose.

Billy cackles, a crazy sound that drowns out everything else, “Looks like you’ve got some fire in you after all! I’ve been waiting to meet this _King Steve_ everybody’s been telling me so much about.”  
  
Steve looks at him, hatred, and incredulity all rolled into one, before he’s stepping out the way of Billy’s fists.

They both near the sink now, Billy’s back to it. They stare at one another, and Steve barely flinches as Billy smashes a plate over his head. Billy grabs him before he can fall, slamming him into the fridge door. Steve can’t breathe, all the air in his lungs rushing out as Billy shoves him harder into the fridge. In the next second, Billy grabs him by his nylon jacket. They spin around, Steve throws a punch, and –

The kids go silent. The only sound is his own harsh breathing. Steve watches from over Billy’s shoulder as the fridge door opens. The demodog falls to the ground with a wet thud, momentum rolling it into the back of Billy’s legs. He turns around.

“What the fuck is that?” Billy asks in a low voice.

-  
  
Steve, Billy realises, as he spits blood onto the grass near his car, can throw an awfully mean punch.

After things had calmed down, after he had stopped yelling at Max to tell him _what the hell that thing was,_ Billy gets shoved outside. He leans against his car door, a dirty rag from somewhere in the backseat held against his nose. He can hear the shitstains and Harrington talking inside. Billy is half tempted to kick the door down and demand answers. However, Billy had seen the nail-ridden bat that Max had picked up when he refused to go outside, and decides against it.

Billy can’t help but wonder what the fuck his little step sister has gotten herself into.

Billy had sensed when the kids had gone from cajoling Steve on, to their collective fear and surprise at the thing that had fallen out of the fridge. He remembers the squelch it had made. The stickiness that clings to the back of his best jeans, that he hopes to God doesn’t stain them. His leather jacket is haphazardly thrown across the passenger seat. In the dull light Billy can see where blood has dried and crusted near the collar.

He takes a drag of his cigarette, and the front door swings open.

Harrington stands on the porch, leaning against the railing.  Billy finally gets a good look at the damage he’s done. Steve’s cleaned up, true, but his left eye is swollen shut and the cut above his brow is short and deep. Harrington gives as good as he gets, Billy thinks, pulling the rag away from his face.

“The babysitter club finally figure out what to do with lil ol’ me, Harrington?”

Steve rolls his eyes, “Unfortunately. Come inside.”  
  
Billy follows.

The kids are sitting scattered between the kitchen and the lounge room.

Billy hoist himself onto the table, legs swinging wildly, and says with a grin, “So, what lie have you come up with to get out of this one, Max?”

Max doesn’t say anything. Instead, it’s one of Harrington’s twerps who speaks up.

“It’s a demodog.”

Billy looks at the curly-haired kid blankly, “A what?”

“A demodog. Demogorgan and dog. It’s a compound, you know? Sounds kind of –“  
  
“Shut _up_ , Dustin,” Sinclair cuts in.

“Whatever it’s – it’s a monster. From a supernatural world,” the kid goes on, “we call it the Upside Down.”

Billy laughs, but everyone else in the room is serious.

“Look, Hargrove,” Steve begins hotly. “We’ve all signed non-disclosure agreements, so telling you anything means we could get killed. So, shut up, and listen to Dustin.”

Billy bites back the _calm down, princess_ , on the tip of his tongue in the face of Steve’s resoluteness.

Dustin continues, and Billy sits in stunned silence while the kid talks. He can’t help but think that it’s fucking ridiculous. The other little twerps pipe up every now and again to add bits here and there. Billy decides that they’re telling the truth. Which is fucking wild. Shit like this has been going on for a whole fucking year? And don’t think Billy hasn’t noticed that they’re leaving something out. It’s in the way Dustin keeps glancing at Nancy Wheeler’s kid brother, in the way that neither the Byers boys are here, in the way that they skirt around how exactly this stuff is being contained. But Billy thinks _non-disclosure agreements_ and decides against pointing it out. He’ll find out eventually.

At the end of it all, Harrington asks him, “So, are you in?”

Billy wonders what they would do if he said no. Rolls the word around in his mouth but doesn’t say it aloud. Because that’s what they’re expecting, right? He’s an asshole who only thinks about himself, fuck helping a bunch of kids fight off some demons. Billy looks around the place, the sheer fucking insanity that’s present in the drawings on the wall, the mess in the kitchen from the fight, the dead fucking _thing_ on the floor.

Billy nods his head once, then twice, and says through the blood in his mouth, “Yeah, I’m in.”

-  
  
That night Billy drives them home in complete silence.

Watching Max say goodbye to her friends had been awkward. He can tell that she’s genuinely friends with them, not pretending like she did back in Cali. They’re a bunch of nerds and if Neil finds out she’s hanging around boys he’ll flip his fucking shit. Thinking about his dad leads to Billy thinking about how Neil isn’t going to let this slide. He’s been out for hours _, looking for Max_ , and now it’s two hours past Max’s curfew.

They pull up and there’s a light on in the house. Shit. Billy parks the car on the street, ready for a quick getaway if he needs it. They sit for a minute after Billy cuts the engine. He turns to look at Max, who’s already staring at him. Billy shakes his head. It’s too late for them to talk about what just happened. He mutters a _c’mon_ , and Max follows him into the house.

His dad is sitting at the kitchen table.

The tension in the air is so fucking thick Billy’s going to choke on it.

“You’re late,” Neil says free of inflection, and that makes Billy cautious. His dad is usually all fire and anger – like himself, Billy fucking hates it – the fact that Neil hasn’t stood up or even looked at them makes alarms bells go off in his head.

“We’re sorry, sir,” Billy says, “Max wasn’t –“  
  
Billy doesn’t want to shift the blame to Max, but he wants to get out of this encounter alive.

Max cuts him off anyway.

“It’s my fault, Neil,” Max is saying, “I didn’t tell Billy where I would be so he had to drive around and ask.”

His dad looks up. Billy can pinpoint the moment Neil takes in his swollen cheek and the bruise that’s blossoming across the bridge of his nose.  His eyes narrow and he pushes up, the chair rocking violently back before tipping over. There he is, the Neil that Billy knows.

Neil moves around the kitchen table, stops in front of the step siblings. Max takes a step back, knocking into Billy, who looks his father dead in the eye.

“Maxine, go to your room.”

Max turns her head slightly, looking up into Billy’s face with an unreadable expression. Billy shakes his head minutely, hoping that Max gets it. She must, because she scurries off without a word.

“You got into a fight.” It’s not a question.

“Yes, sir.” There’s no point in lying.

“You got into a fight,” Neil repeats, “when all I asked was for you to find your sister.”

Billy wants to snap back, tell him about the shit it took for him to find Max. Tell him that yeah, sometimes he gets into fights, shouldn’t his dad _know that by now_. But that’ll only add fuel to the fire.

“It won’t happen again.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Billy,” Neil spits back, “I don’t think you understand what the situation is here.”  
  
Neil stalks forward, drags Billy in closer by the collar of his jacket. His knuckles are pressing sharply into Billy’s collarbone, his hand too close to Billy’s throat. His face is too close, and Billy can see the pure, smouldering anger in his father’s eyes.

“Repeat after me, son. Respect and responsibility.”  
  
It comes out in a whisper, an echo of earlier in the night, “Respect and responsibility.”

“And, tell me, what does that mean in my house?”  
  
“It means,” Billy mumbles, his eyes burning. “It means that I have to take care of Max.”  
  
“What else?”  
  
“That I have to follow your rules.”  
  
“That's your problem, Billy. You don’t abide by my rules. You don’t respect me.” 

Billy knows this routine like the back of his hand, knows he shouldn’t say anything. Yet, too prideful and hardwired with rebellion, he says, “No. I don’t.”

Neil’s face flashes, anger morphing into fury morphing into wildfire. The hand twisting in his shirt slides around his throat, pushes him into the back of the wall. The sickly yellow lights of the hallway are too bright as Neil’s hand tightens, the blood rushing to his head, the pressure too much. Billy chokes for air. His hands scratch at his father’s arm, seeking relief. Spots dance in front of his eyes as he loses oxygen.

“You better learn some goddamn respect,” he growls into Billy’s ear, pressing against his throat even harder.

The unspoken or _it’ll be the last thing you do_ hangs heavy in the air. 

Neil releases him. 

Billy reaches a hand out to steady himself on the wall, other hand on his knee as he gasps for breath, throat raw.


	2. a shattered mind

In the morning, on their way to school, Max reaches over and switches the radio off. 

Billy is ready to yell at her for touching his shit, but all the fight goes out of him when she asks, “Has he always been that bad?”

Billy would laugh if he didn’t know she was serious; Max has only ever seen Neil yell at him. Max was never home, back in California, whenever his dad had a reason to hit him. She was always out. Billy knows it’s because she doesn’t like Neil, doesn’t like that fact that Susan left her dad. Max was, probably still is, unaware of how deep Neil’s hatred for his own flesh and blood runs. Max didn’t even know about the whole respect and responsibility spiel that his dad has had going since the day her and Susan showed up until she eavesdropped last night.

“Since before you were born, kid,” Billy replies. He doesn’t want Max asking questions. Something’s changed, between last night and this morning, but the rift between them is still too wide. Billy doesn’t know how to mend it, wouldn’t even know where to begin.

Max isn’t having any of it.

“Why?”  
  
“Because I’m a piece of shit, Max? Fuck, I don’t know, just leave it alone,” Billy huffs.  
  
“No! He shouldn’t be doing that!”

Billy glances at her. Max’s face is flushed, and really, Billy is touched that she seems to actually, genuinely care. It’s such a foreign concept to him that he doesn’t know how to respond.

“Yeah, well he does. I’m used to it. Better me than you.” He says softly, eyes focused on the road so he misses the look of shock that passes over her face at that.

“For what it’s worth, Max,” Billy continues, “I am sorry.”

“You should be.”

“I know.”  
  
“You’re still an asshole, Billy.”  
  
Billy laughs. She isn’t wrong, not at all. He likely always will be, doesn’t know how to be anything else. The thing is, Billy is so sick of having to be so fucking careful around his did – _of turning into in his dad_. But Billy doesn’t know how to change. Anger and misery have followed him around for the past decade like a dead weight. Learning something new, something akin to kindness, seems to be so far out of reach for him.

Max, unaware of his inner turmoil, says, “You need to apologise to my friends.”

“Which ones?”  
  
“Well, all of them,” Max states.

“No _._ ”  
  
“Uh, yes? Don’t be a jerk already.”  
  
“Fucking – fine, okay, who, specifically?”  
  
“All of them,” Max repeats.

“Okay, okay!” Billy shakes his head, glances out the corner of his eye and catches the look on Max’s face - she's sceptic, but there's something pleased underlying it. “Even Harrington?”  
  
“ _Especially_ Steve, Billy, you nearly killed him!”  
  
Billy grunts, a disgusted sound that has Max rolling her eyes.

If apologising is what she wants, Billy will do it. Seems like a step in the right direction. Even if it means apologising to Hawkins’ resident princess for caving his face in. Even if the thought of apologising to anyone floods anger and dread through his veins.

Anger is easy, though, and Billy’s always been a little complicated.  
  
-  
  
Steve pulls into the school parking lot, intentionally missing the free spot next to Billy’s Camaro. Steve doesn’t want to admit that he’s been avoiding the other boy. It’s Friday again, a week since that night at the Byers, and Steve’s done everything he can to evade him. It’s easy – they don’t share any classes. Basketball practice is really the only time they clash, and Steve had been on the verge of dropping it even before Billy swept in like a hurricane.

What is the point anymore, Steve wonders, about high school in general? It’s not like he’s particularly studious, and the shit show that was his college application letter proved that.

His thoughts get cut short when Jonathan pulls up next to him. Nancy is in the passenger seat and it hurts to think about her, a deep ache in his chest that crawls through his bones. The past year they spent together forgotten in an instant.

All boiled down to _bullshit, it’s bullshit, you’re bullshit, Steve_.

And though Steve doesn’t regret it, would never regret Nance, he wishes so profoundly that they had ended differently. Maybe it might’ve hurt less. Maybe she wouldn’t have run off with Jonathan not even a week later, and really, that’s what hurts Steve more than anything. He knows that they have shared trauma, knows that brought them closer, even when he and Nancy were still dating, and Steve gets it – really, he does. It just hurts. Makes him question whether he’s good enough or not. He was an asshole before everything, Steve still is, if he’s being honest with himself. And Steve _knows_ , knows more than anything, that Nancy made him a better person. He’s so afraid of falling back into that personality – unaware of the world, drifting without a care. Couldn’t even imagine what his life would be like that now.

Here he goes again, overthinking everything.

Steve shakes his head harshly, trying to dislodge this train of thought. He still has a day full of school and shit ahead; has to tackle that with a clear head, or he’ll slip up and people will realise how fucked up he is.

He climbs out of his car, and walks off without a backwards glance.

He tells himself that he’s getting over it.                                                                                       

-

Steve floats through the day. Eats lunch alone in his car. Barely even participates in class, and when he does it’s methodical and monotonous.

He attends basketball practice in a daze.

Sure, he’s still playing, but he’s tripping over more times than he has the ball. Coach benches him halfway through. It’s self-sabotage at this point, Steve idly hoping that he’ll get kicked off the team so he doesn’t have to worry about it.

And maybe it’s fortuitous, the way he keeps glancing at Billy while he sits there on the cold metal bench, and maybe it’s not.

Steve hasn’t stopped thinking about what went down at the Byers. Between that and his break up with Nancy, his thoughts preoccupied by _what ifs_ and _whys_. What if the demodog hadn’t fallen out of the fridge? Why had Billy said what he did – that he was in? Would everything change, now that he knows?

Why _had_ Billy done anything up to that point, that night. Steve remembers it in a haze, the Camaro drowning out their voices inside, the sheer panic that crossed Max’s face when she recognised the sound, and then Billy. _Am I dreaming, or is that you Harrington_ echoes in his mind. The fight, the demodog falling in slow motion, Billy’s wild voice. Somehow blanking out and then arguing with the kids that they should tell him _. He’s already seen it, Dustin, he won’t forget!_ That had come as a surprise to even Steve, that he would agree with the idea of telling Billy. He doesn’t really know why he did. Maybe it’s because he can’t really talk to Nancy anymore, about all this fucked up shit, maybe he just wants someone else his age in on it all.

Steve keeps coming back to him. Billy Hargrove, who Steve can’t really wrap his head around. Steve knows that Billy’s an abusive asshole, evident in everything Max has told him, how he turned up and decided Steve was _competition_. They’ve been at each other’s throats more often than not. They’re on a violent collision course that Steve can’t see the end of, not sure if he wants to see the end of it. Billy’s a kind of wildfire that Steve hasn’t experienced before. Billy’s intriguing, a challenge, a welcome distraction to the mess of his life. What’s more, he can see their similarities, but they end at being popular. Steve abdicated his high school throne long ago, after El disappeared, didn’t want anything to do with it. Not in light of everything that had happened last year. Steve’s changed. He’s proud of that.

Steve thinks that maybe if he could change from ‘Keg King Steve Harrington,’ bad boy extraordinaire, to babysitter of the year, then maybe Billy can change, too. But that’s not his problem. Only Billy can change himself.

The piercing whistle that rings across the gym interrupts his thoughts. The squad pours out of the gym and into the locker room. Steve stands slowly to trail after them.

The showers are already running when Steve walks in. He stands in front of his locker, fiddling with the padlock. He pretends to mess around with it, as his teammates emerge from the showers and leave. The last one cuts off and Steve thinks _thank God_. Avoiding Billy is exhausting, but if it means he has to wait nearly half an hour for a shower so Hargrove doesn’t confront him, well, Steve will do just that. It hasn’t cross his mind that Billy hasn’t entered his peripheral, hasn’t even thought that Billy wouldn’t be the first one out of here on a Friday.

“Still hanging around, Harrington?”

Steve turns around and there he is, his luck only running so far. Billy hasn’t even gotten dressed yet, towel wrapped around his hips. Water glints off his chest under the fluorescent lights – and oh, that’s dangerous territory. Steve can feel the hot flush heating his cheeks and hopes to God Billy doesn’t notice.

Billy mustn’t, because he goes on without a reply, “Noticed your shitty playing, man, what’s that about it?”  
  
“Piss off, Hargrove,” Steve replies.

He doesn’t want this conversation. He turns back to his locker, pulling it open so the door blocks his view of Billy. He hears Billy sigh, over exaggerated to catch his attention, Steve is sure. He gathers his stuff and slams the locker door shut. He turns to walk towards the bathroom, but Billy is standing there, leaning against the row of lockers.

“ _Jesus_ ,” Steve breathes, taking a step back, “Fucking warn a guy.”

Billy laughs, and it’s a grating, harsh sound against Steve’s ears.

“Look, Harrington,” Billy says, crossing his arms, “I don’t have much time, I gotta pick up Max, but I’m coming over later.”

“What?” Steve looks at him incredulously, and there’s no way Billy can change if that’s how he’s still going around.

Billy rolls his eyes, “Your place, Harrington? We need to talk.”

And that’s what Steve has been avoiding. He knew it was inevitable. Irrespective of the fact that he knew Billy would be curious, Steve is afraid because he wants to tell him – everything. Steve wants to tell him everything.

Steve rattles off his address.  
  
-  
  
It’s just past nine when Billy rocks up. The Camaro looks out of place in the paved driveway, in front of Steve’s massive, empty house. Steve doesn’t know what to do. He’s been rehearsing what to say for nearly an hour. Imagines what kind of questions Billy will ask and that he’ll will try to answer. Does he get up and greet Billy at the door like his parents taught him too, should he pretend to be upstairs, so Billy has to wait to be let in, will Billy just assume it’s unlocked and walk right in?

His questions are answered in the form of Billy knocking.

Steve gets up off the couch, opens the door. Billy’s back his to him, and Steve can tell he’s taking in the fucking woods that his house is in the middle of. He turns back around and whistles.

“Nice place,” he says, eyebrows raised. “You really _are_ King Steve, aren’t you?”

“If you’re just here to crack jokes, fuck off, Hargrove,” Steve says, already angry at himself for agreeing to this.

Billy raises his hands in a defensive gesture, “Calm down, princess.”

Steve doesn’t ever deign that with a response, even though the sobriquet makes his blood hot. Billy follows him into the house. Steve beelines for the fridge, grabs a beer, because there’s no way he’s having this conversation even remotely sober.

“What do you want, Hargrove?” Steve asks as they end up back in the lounge room.

Billy dives right in; asks Steve a million questions. He answers most of them, because they’re mainly about the demodogs. Steve briefly mentions Barb with his heart in his throat, talks about last Christmas and the lights. Tries not to bring up Nancy, but she was so central to everything it’s unavoidable. Skirts around Will’s disappearance and doesn’t breathe a word about Eleven. Even if he does want to tell Billy everything, just for the sake of having someone else to talk to, he won't, wouldn't betray Eleven like that. He feels as if he’s reiterating Dustin from a week ago in the Byers kitchen, feels like Billy’s attention is elsewhere.

“It’s getting late,” Steve says after their conversation is over.

Billy looks oddly uncomfortable on the couch, sitting far too close to the edge.

“I also wanted to…” Billy trails off, and it must be a nervous tick, the way he clenches his hand into a fist, knuckles white. “I wanted to apologise.”

That blindsides Steve. He nearly chokes on his beer. Of all things, he hadn’t expected Billy to turn up and _apologise_.

“For beating the shit out of you,” Billy elaborates, “and for being an asshole ever since we met.” 

Instead of saying _thank you, maybe you really aren’t a complete dick after all_ , Steve blurts out, “Why’re you so angry all the time?”

Billy looks up at him, his blue eyes pinning Steve down. A shiver runs up Steve’s spin. The moment lasts barely a second before Billy looks back down at his hands, still curled tight.

“My dad’s a bastard,” Billy says, short and tense. “I get it from him.”

“Aren’t all dad’s bastards, though?” Steve laughs, but it’s a hollow sound, Steve thinking about how neither of his parents are ever home, always absent.

Billy’s reply is almost distant, “Yeah, I guess.”

“But that also doesn’t excuse the way you acted, especially towards Lucas.”

“You’re right.”

“Are you going to apologise to him, too?”

“When I can.”  
  
“Good,” Steve nods his head, pleased.

“So, do you forgive me?” And there’s the Billy that Steve is used to, all cocksure and self-confident.

“No.”

“ _No?”_ Billy says it like it’s a surprise. 

“No. Not until you give me a good enough reason to.”  
  
Billy scoffs, “Oh, so I need to get on my hands and knees and grovel now, your majesty?”

“Cut it out, Billy,” Steve says, “Just show me that you’ve changed.”  
  
Billy stands, “Fuck off, Harrington. I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea,”

Steve jumps up and follows Billy out of the room. 

“So, you’re just leaving, then?” Steve yells, but it’s muffled by the front door slamming behind Billy. 

Steve wonders if it’s because his words have done something of impact. Have they shaken Billy to the core, like they did Steve, when Nancy said the same thing to him? Steve watches as Billy’s car tears out of his driveway, tyres squealing and music thumping. He turns back around, eyes catching the dim blue glow that the pool lights throw against the trees. His breath catches in his lungs, like it does every other time he glances out to the backyard, thoughts filled with Barb and regret. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise there'll be a plot to this eventually lmao, wishing everyone safe + happy holidays!!


	3. buried knife and calling rage

Saturday arrives with heavy rain and a restlessness so bone deep that Billy itches with pent up energy. Adrenalin buzzes underneath his skin, only settles when he takes a slow drag of his cigarette, made worse by the desperate need he always has to get out of the house. Susan and Neil are out, gone somewhere only God knows, leaving him to look after Max. There’s movement at his door, Max peaking her head in.

“What’s up, shithead?” He asks, the smell of smoke so heavy in the room that Max’s face twists in disgust.

“Can you take me to the arcade?” 

There’s the opening he’s been waiting for. If he’d gone out on his own, Neil would have his head. But it’s a completely different ball game when Max asks, because he can’t say no to her, lest she rats him out, and then he really will get into trouble.

“Can you take me to the arcade, _what_?”  
  
“Please, Billy,” Max rolls her eyes.

“Sure. But I gotta pick you up before Susan and Dad get home.”  
  
They dash through the ran to the car, sliding in and Billy cranks the heat up. An AC/DC cassette gets pushed into the radio, Billy revving the engine in time with Back In Black. Max laughs, shaking her head. Billy could get used to this; this getting along thing.

The drive to the arcade is much more subdued that usual due to the weather. Billy is burning to press the throttle down, to scream along one of these backwater roads and let off some steam, but too unwilling in the sleet that has his wipers on full speed.

Billy pulls up, intending to drop Max and go, but then Max’s little nerd friends are in the window, and he turns into a park. Max doesn’t say anything, too used to being quiet, and runs inside. Billy follows her in, walking under neon lights until he finds them all gathered in front of game Dustin is playing.

“Hey, Sinclair,” Billy shouts over the cacophony of noise. The kids all jump, turning around, and Billy hates how Lucas flinches back, the very movement causing him to grind his teeth.

“What?” Lucas says, so cautious that Billy is ready to say fuck it all and yell that he’s sorry out so the entire town hears it. Damn his father, _damn himself_ , for treating this kid like shit.

“Do you have a moment?”  
  
Lucas nods his head, and follows Billy over to a quiet corner, sitting across from him.

“I wanted to apologise,” Billy says, echoing himself from last night, but this time he looks Lucas in the eye, wants to make sure the kid understands that he means this, more than anything. “For what went down at the Byers last week. And for being a piece of shit in general.”

Lucas doesn’t say anything, just looks at him sceptically. Billy doesn’t blame him.

“I’m not sure of what Max’s told you, but my dad, he told me to make sure Max didn’t –“ Billy cuts himself off, doesn’t want to repeat his father’s words. “He’s not a nice person. And for the longest time, I repeated his actions, because I was an angry kid with nothing better to do. His attitude influenced me a lot of ways. I know it’s not an excuse, for how I’ve treated you, I _know_. And I want to take responsibility for my actions. I should’ve long ago. I’m so, so fucking sorry for ever going after you, for treating you like I did. I’ve been trying to unlearn – unlearn him.”  
  
By some fucking miracle the kid doesn’t hate him, because he says, “Thank you for saying sorry.”  
  
Billy breathes a sigh of relief. 

“Max mentioned your dad.”

It doesn’t come as a surprise to him that Max has, doesn’t piss him off as much as it once would of.

“Max has mentioned you to me, too.”  
  
Lucas visibly perks at that, and Billy can’t help but think of puppy love.

“What’d she say?”  
  
“That you’re annoying.”

“Really?” The look on Lucas’s face is a mixture of both disappointment and hopefulness. It reminds Billy so much of himself, before his dad’s anger and his own fucked up attitude twisted him into a disrespectful asshole.

“Yeah. But she also said that you’re the only one in the nerd group who’s listened to her, so, I guess I’m glad it’s you, Sinclair.”

Lucas smiles, “Thanks, Hargrove,” he says, then shoots out of his seat. Billy throws a glance over his shoulder as he walks out of the arcade, notices the way that Max is looking at Lucas, soft smile gracing her face, and thinks maybe everything will be okay.

 

* * *

 

Halfway through the week finds Steve waiting after school for Billy.  

Dustin had told him about his apology to Lucas, about how Billy had been genuine, what he’d said, word for word. Steve thinks Billy’s already changed. He’d changed the moment he said _I’m in_. He should’ve said something more the other night, stopped Billy from storming out of his house.

Steve digs a hand in his jacket pocket, grabbing the packet of Marlboro’s he isn’t meant to have. He lights one up, keening for the nicotine to sink into his lungs. Billy turns up as he flicks ash onto the ground.

“G’day, Harrington.”

Steve snorts. “What are you, Australian?”  
  
“You didn’t know? Mate, my mother’s Australian.” Steve can here the stressed accent, Billy clearly playing it up.  
  
“You’re joking, Hargrove.”  
  
“I even lived there for a couple of years when I was younger. I’m deadset, pretty boy.”

The name is said without malice this time, and it curls around Steve in an inexplicable kind of way. Steve thinks that it actually makes sense – that Billy is some Californian foreigner who arrived in Hawkins and proceeded to turn it upside down.

“Anyway,” Billy continues, voice falling back into something harsh. “What do you want?”

Steve blinks, forgetting that he came here to talk to Billy about Lucas, about what the kids have decided to do about the demodogs.

“Yeah, I, um,” Steve flushes, embarrassed at himself. “Lucas told Dustin that you apologised to him, and Dustin told me, so… Thanks, I guess.”  
  
Billy’s eyes drift to the side. “I didn’t do it for you.”

“No, I know, I just –“

Billy cuts him off, “Is there actually something you need, Harrington? I’ve got places to be.”

“ _Shit_ , you’re an asshole, just wait a moment.”

Steve tucks his smoke between his lips before reaching into his bag.

“Here,” he says around the cigarette, missing the way Billy looks at him, “Get here around four on Saturday, and bring Max. It’s about the Upside Down.”  
  
Steve holds the paper in one hand, the other reaching up to grab his cigarette from his mouth. In the same motion, he angles his head away from Billy, blows smoke through his mouth in long exhale. Billy grabs the paper.

“Didn’t know you smoke,” Billy says, and Steve rolls his eyes.  
  
“Of course you wouldn’t.”

He turns his head back towards Billy, let’s a faint smirk play at his lips so the other boy can tell that he’s joking. Billy’s eyes flicker down his face, from his mouth back up again. There’s something charged electric in his blue gaze, something that runs the faintest shiver across Steve’s skin.

Billy looks down at the paper, “Yeah, alright. See you there, Harrington.”  

 

* * *

 

Steve, Dustin and Lucas trek along the train tracks, setting bait. It’s a cold afternoon, and even though Steve has a jacket on the chill still gets to him.

Dustin walks next to him. Lucas trails behind, lost in his own world.

“Steve-o, how’d you start dating Nancy? How’d you know she was like, the one?”  
  
Steve spouts of some stuff, mainly about how Dustin is too young to get his heart broken, tries not to let it show that he knows it’s Max. Doesn’t feel as sad as he thought he would talking about Nancy. Maybe he _is_ getting over her. The only solid piece of advice he gives is one he always follows – wait for that electricity.   

The finally make it to the junkyard. Billy and Max are nowhere to be seen.

They start fortifying the bus, dragging metal across the ground here, pushing barrels over there. It goes on for a while, until the sound of an engine interrupts them. Steve stands, wiping sweat off his forehead as Billy stops the car in front of them.

“What the hell is going on here?” Billy says as he climbs out of the car.

“We’re gonna kill some demodogs.” Dustin says in reply.

Max looks at him, “There’s more?”

“Yeah, Dustin,“ Lucas swings his head around to glare at him, “has a theory.”

“All I’m saying is that it makes sense, okay!” Dustin sounds defensive. “That demodog we found wasn’t Dart, I _know_ it wasn’t, and it’s only logical to think that there’s more because of the tracks outside my house!”  

Billy turns to Steve, “What the fuck? Who’s Dart?”

Steve shakes his head, “Man, you don’t even want to know.”

 

* * *

 

Sunset comes and goes. Billy wonders how the fuck he got dragged into this mess, despite knowing it’s his own godforsaken fault that landed him here.

He had forced Steve into telling him what the hell was happening, screw his fucking _well, someone’s gotta look after the dickheads_ that replays in Billy’s head like he’s mocking it. Steve's explanation is even more vague than the one he in got in the Byers’ kitchen. Some bullshit about there being a demodog thing on the loose. The fact that Dart is one of them just makes Billy fucking laugh, because of course one of the twerps had _named a supernatural monster_.  
  
All five of them are crowded into the bus. Lucas up the ladder on the lookout. Billy slowly making his way through his umpteenth cigarette of the day. Max is sitting next to him, looking as bored as he feels. Dustin is pacing, which annoys the fuck out of Billy, but he doesn’t say anything, because it’s clear the kid’s distressed and he’s trying not to be an asshole. Steve is just behind the ladder, back pressed to the wall as he flicks his lighter on and off, the rhythmic clicking a calming sound.

Dustin snaps something at Max, but Billy isn’t paying attention, just knows that it makes her get up and climb up the ladder to join Lucas. He listens as Steve talks to Dustin, and well, isn’t that a surprise, two best friends vying for his step sister. Steve keeps clicking the lighter as he speaks, and to Billy he sounds uninterested, as does Dustin when he says something about not caring.

A guttural scream breaks the silence.

Dustin and Steve rush to the window. Billy hangs back, because it’s not like he knows why he’s here, he just got told to turn up.

“Lucas? _Lucas_!”

“Ten o’clock!” Lucas shouts, and Billy can hear his voice break.

Billy comes up behind Steve, catching his eye when Steve looks over his shoulder at him, and the both stare out into the junkyard. Fog rolls thick on the ground, Billy can barely see anything. From the corner of his eye he sees Max scramble down the ladder.

There’s movement across the field, and both Steve and Dustin tense. The thing looks exactly like the dead one Billy saw – except thing one’s mouth is moving with every step it takes – and fuck, if that isn’t the scariest thing he sees, the four corners spread wide as it screams.

“Why isn’t it taking the bait?”  
  
Steve echoes Dustin, and then says, “Maybe he’s sick of cow.”

Steve pulls away from the window, walks towards the back of the bus, and comes back with that goddamn nailed-filled bat.

“That’s _yours_?” Billy asks.

“Yeah, I’ve always liked baseball more than basketball,” Steve grins, and tosses the lighter towards Dustin. “Get ready.”

Steve steps out of the bus. Dustin, eyes glued to Steve as he walks through the fog, answers Max’s question, “He’s expanding the menu.”

Billy watches as Steve twists the bat in a smooth arc, can distantly hear him taunt the monster. Steve digs his feet into the ground. Billy’s breath catches, remembering all the times he’s told Steve to _plant his feet_ , watching him actually do it.

“He’s insane,” he hears Max say.

Steve swings the bat away from him. The nails catch in the moonlight.

“He’s awesome,” Dustin replies, and Billy’s inclined to agree with him, right now.

And then Lucas yells _three o’clock, three o’clock_ , voice breaking again. Dustin rushes to the door, screaming abort. 

Steve turns, scanning the junkyard. He barely dodges as something black blurs past him. Billy’s forgotten how to breath, Steve rolling over the car. In the same motion, he swings and the bat slams into a demodog.

Billy forces himself into action.

“Is there another bat?” He asks, but no one seems to hear him, so he yells.    
  
Dustin turns around, and shoves into Billy’s hands a crowbar.

“Stay here,” he says, and hopes to God for once the shitheads listen to him.

Steve is still hidden by the car, close to the bus but not close enough. Billy circles wide, weaving through the cars so he comes up behind Steve.

“What the fuck, Billy?” Steve doesn’t look scared, he looks down right pissed. “You should be in the bus!”  
  
“Couldn’t let you have all the fun, princess.”  
  
Billy can imagine the eye roll at his words, but Steve doesn’t say anything. Steve moves, crouched low to the ground. Billy follows him, eyes constantly shifting between Steve, the wide expanse of open grass in front of the bus, and to where he thinks he hears shifting in the junkyard. The fog is so thick, concealing everything within a ten-foot radius. Steve suddenly tenses where they stand bracketed by two cars.

Something clangs against metal to Billy’s left, and the next second, something rushes at them. Billy strikes out, the crowbar sinking into the monster’s flesh. _Fuck, fuck, fuck_ , courses through his mind like a mantra. Billy can barely see anything, the fog obscures everything and it’s pitch fucking black. It’s flower-like mouth unfurls as it growls, moonlight gleams off all four sides and Billy realises with a lurch that it’s covered in teeth.

It surges towards him, leaping, and Billy doesn’t have time to dodge. The thing knocks him down, landing on his chest. The crowbar is stuck fast between him and the demodog’s neck, Billy pushing back at it but it’s  _so strong_. Jaws snap at him, trying to bite him, and Billy’s muscles burn trying to keep it away.

Air rushes past his ears, and the weight on his chest disappears. Steve’s whacked the thing off of him, baseball bat covered in blood. Billy scrambles up, barely on his feet before he’s swinging the crowbar out again. The hit is dead on, but in the dark Billy can’t see where, but the monster gurgles, a sick sound, and Billy knows he’s got it.

Billy tries to pull back, but the crowbar is stuck. He realises with a sickening rush that the hook is lodged in the monster’s throat. Billy yanks the bar sideways, and the thing _whimpers_. The crowbar slides free. It’s coated in what must be blood, glistening under the moonlight. Billy stands there, staring at the blood-slick crowbar in his hand. He’s stuck, feet cemented in place because _shit_ , he just killed a fucking supernatural demon dog monster–  
  
“Come on, Hargrove!”  Steve yells, yanking Billy by the arm.

Growls split the air as the monsters close in on them. Him and Steve stumble together, Steve pulling him up as he trips over a pipe. They’re running towards the bus, and Billy can hear the things scream behind them. Dustin stands in the doorway, ready to close the door. Steve throws himself in. Billy is close behind. They fall over each other, a tangled heap. The door dents as one of the monsters crashes into it. Another lands on the roof, and Billy’s head snaps back as he looks up, pressing into Steve’s chest.

Max stands at the base of the ladder. She screams, a terrible, high pitched sound. Chills run down Billy’s spine. Steve pushes out from under him, leaving him sprawled across the steps. Steve clutches the baseball bat, screaming up into the face of the demodog.

And then it disappears.  
  
It’s dead silent outside, all noise ceased, no more creaks and groans of metal as the demodogs stalk the junkyard.

Billy kicks open the door.  
  
“Where’d they go?” He asks into the empty field.

“Did you scare them off?”  
  
“No,” Billy and Steve say in sync, and Billy twists around, looking up at Steve from his place on the floor. Billy can’t see much, not in the dim light, but Steve’s face is so determined, it settles something in Billy; they just fought side by side and it’s the best thing Billy’s ever experienced _. Steve Harrington has just saved his fucking life_. Adrenalin is thrumming through his veins from the fight, and causes his sense to go into overdrive, each ache and pain feeling fresh as his sits there on the stairs of the bus.

“No way,” Steve continues, “They’re going somewhere.”

 

* * *

 

Sunday sees Steve stay in bed all day, hiding under the quilt, ignoring the world. Monday appears with a fresh wave of apathy that has Steve contemplating skipping school. He’s done with pretending that things are okay between him, Nancy, and Jonathan. They aren’t – they probably never will be. He’s happy for them, of course, but bitterness fills his mouth whenever he thinks about the couple.

He knows they went to that investigator, knows that they’re trying to leak a story. Nancy had told him, walking through the school parking lot the day her and Jonathan returned. Her hushed words had felt like a slap in the face. Especially after everything they’d been through; the countless dinners with Barb’s parents, Nancy’s nightmares, his own anxiety over the swimming pool that sits in the back of his mind like a dead weight. It goes hand in hand with his newfound inability to look at a normal dog anymore, his mind replaying the open mouth screeching down the sunroof of the bus. It’s just another thing to add to the mess that he’s turning into.  

Steve burns his tongue on his coffee that morning.

He plays Tears For Fears way too loud as he drives to school to make up for it. Slams the door shut with more force than necessary when his eye catches Nancy and Jonathan. Acts like an asshole to everyone he speaks to, and doesn’t he revel in it, reverting back into _King Steve,_ filled with sparking self-righteousness.

Even as lunch rolls around, rather than escaping to his car, Steve actually sits in the cafeteria. He forgot how noisy it gets here, supposes before that he had people to talk to. He’s halfway through a salad sandwich, which tastes about as disgusting as it looks, when Nancy and Jonathan slide into the seats in front of him.  

“Hey, Steve,” Nancy says, placing her bag on the table. Jonathan nods his head towards Steve, book in hand. 

“Hi, guys, what’s up?”  
  
“Oh, nothing, just wanted to see how you are?”

Steve knows Nancy well enough that there’s something wrong with her. Whatever it is, she’ll have to bring it up, because Steve is so far past the point in caring. _Fuck them,_ he thinks, sitting across from him like they’ve done nothing at all, like Nancy hadn’t broken his heart. _Before Nancy_ , _During Nancy_ , and _After Nancy_ are starting to become to the categories of his life and Steve doesn’t know how to feel about it.

“I’m fine,” Steve says.

“That’s good, Steve,” Nancy replies in that tone of voice, slightly patronizing with a hint of disappointment.

“Yourself?” Steve asks, because while he hates this, he doesn’t want to play King Steve to them.  
  
Jonathan pipes up, head still buried in his book, and honestly, Steve’s surprised he’s even following their conversation, “Things are good. Will’s doing okay for now.”  
  
“That’s great, Jonathan.” Steve genuinely means it.

They talk nonsensically. It gets on Steve’s nerves, having to talk to Nancy when it’s so obvious that _he doesn’t want to do this_ , evident in his one word responses and general attitude. All he wants to do is ask her why she’s here, but that would be rude.

“Are you still writing your college essay?”   
  
Of course, she had to ask, after Steve had already decided that he’d fucked it up enough he never wanted to talk about it again.

“Uh –“ Steve jolts in his seat when hands clamp down on his shoulders.

“Hey, pretty boy,” comes from somewhere behind him. “Surprised to see you in here today.”

Billy spins the chair around next to Steve to sit in it backwards. Nancy and Jonathan stare.

"My car smells like dead dog,” Steve says in greeting.

Three things happen at once: Bill laughs, Nancy gasps, and Jonathan snaps his book closed. Steve himself wants to laugh, but Nancy is glaring at him and it would be like laughing in the face of a loaded gun.  

“No shit?” Billy asks, still laughing, oblivious of Nancy’s scowl, or just not caring. Probably the latter.  
  
“Yeah, reminds me of you, actually,” Steve deadpans. Billy's eyes cut to his and he winks, of all things, which flusters Steve. 

“Why is _he_ here?” There’s Nancy, getting over her shock and commandeering the conversation.

Before Steve can say anything, Billy bites back, “Why’re you?”  
  
Nancy looks offended; good, Steve thinks. They’re about as stubborn as each other.  

“Because we’re Steve’s friends,” Nancy says it like it’s a fact, and Steve really couldn’t disagree more.

Billy glances between him and Nancy, and Steve wonders what he’s thinking. This whole thing is weird – Billy must have seen the three of them together and decided to join him. Steve isn’t even sure why Billy would come over in the first place. The younger boy is unpredictable, wildly so, near psychotic in all the wrong ways. But Steve learnt some things, over the past few days, and one of those is that he can trust Billy. Whether anyone else would agree with him is debateable, would tell him he’s too quick to trust – but Saturday night in the junkyard proved Steve right. Billy is changing.

"Oh, really?” Billy says, voice low and there’s a devilish smile plastered over his face now, sly and slightly dangerous.

Steve is watching him from the corner of his eye, and there’s something in the way that Billy’s gaze flashes towards him that makes his stomach flip. It’s like he can see through Steve, can hear his dying need for Nancy and Jonathan to piss off and decided to answer the damn call.

“You think you are?” Jonathan asks Billy.

Steve doesn’t dare look over at him, mind whirling with memories of Billy showing up at his house apologising. Saturday night, Billy following him through the junkyard. The heart attack he almost had watching Billy fall under that demodog. Collapsing into the bus together, curls pressed into his chest.

“Oh, I wouldn’t call us friends, Byers, but I bet I’m more welcome company than either of you.”  
  
Steve chokes on his sandwich. Billy has a lot more guts that Steve gives him credit for, saying that with a straight face with Nancy’s death glare and Jonathan’s stoic face aimed at him. Steve also doesn’t want to validate Billy, no matter how right he is, doesn’t want to see satisfaction crawl it’s way into his grin.

Nancy actually laughs. “Even if you know about the Upside Down, there’s no way Steve would ever call you his friend.”

Steve’s about reached his tolerance for Nancy, sick of this entire interaction with her and it’s barely been half an hour. He’s about to say something, get up and leave, when Billy starts again, voice close to threatening.

“Look, Wheeler, whatever monopoly you think you have over Harrington – you don’t. He’s his own person, dealing with the same fucked up shit you lot are. Except he got his heart broken as well–“ and _God_ , how does Billy even know this shit about him, “– and now has to makes small talk with the happy couple after fighting monsters all bloody weekend. So why don’t you shut up and think about someone other than yourself for a moment?”

Steve stares at Billy, not quite believing what he’s just said.

Nancy’s eyes are wide, but she doesn’t try defending herself. Jonathan looks like he wants to melt into the floor. Steve kind of feels like that, too, only so he can escape the burning heat of Billy’s blue eyes and the flutter of butterflies in his stomach.

Billy stands, “Nice chat. C’mon, Harrington.”    
  
“Yeah, sorry, Nance, Jonathan, we’ve got basketball,” Steve can’t help but add, even though all four of them are aware that basketball practice isn’t until the end of the week. “I’ll see you round.”

Billy is definitely in a category all of his own, Steve thinks, as he stands to follow. _After Nancy_ might be the only applicable one, but even then, Steve feels like he’d be doing Billy an injustice. Steve hates confrontation, but seeing Billy go toe to toe with his ex-girlfriend causes warmth to pool in his stomach.

Billy leads him outside to the Camaro, dark navy stark against the white cars either side. In the process of them sitting on the hood, Steve digs a hand around in his bag and emerges with a pack of smokes. He’s can’t find his lighter, of course, smoke dangling out of his mouth like a fucking idiot as he nearly upends his bag trying to find it.

There’s a click, and then Billy’s Zippo is in front of him. There’s something engraved into the metal, some kind of constellation that Steve’s unfamiliar with. Four stars are arranged like a cross. A fifth star, the smallest, is centre between the far-right star and the largest one at the bottom. Steve realises with a start that it’s the Southern Cross. It’s an odd, curious detail, Steve thinks, because Billy doesn’t come across as particularly proud of his heritage.

The flame wavers, and Steve’s suddenly aware that he’s probably been staring at it for a good few seconds. He leans in, inhaling as the cigarette catches, smoke filling his lungs.  

“They always try pull shit like that?” Billy asks.

“No, not really. Nancy probably heard about the junkyard thing from Mike.”

“She ask you about it?”  
  
“You got there before she did. Thanks, for that, by the way.” Steve says, smoke curling out of his mouth. Thanks seems too inadequate of a word, not when Steve was longing to tell Nancy and Jonathan to fuck off, then Billy turning up like a knight in shining armour – or in this case, ripped denim jacket and scuffed combat boots – and doing it for him.

Steve knows that train of thought is one he should avoid. But he can’t. Billy’s somehow wedged himself into Steve’s life, so much so that Steve’s already reconciled this all without even realising it. It’s not like he isn’t aware or confused of his own feelings – he told Nancy before they properly started dating about his bisexuality, didn’t want to hide it. Denying his attraction towards Billy would be futile at this point. But he isn’t going to breath a word about it. Not to Nancy. Definitely not to Billy.  
  
“Anything for you, princess,” Billy grins at him in reply, slightly wild, something more like affection in his voice.

Steve must hate himself, because he murmurs around the cigarette in his mouth, “My prince.”

Billy throws his head back when he laughs. Steve’s heart sinks. He can’t ever let anyone know about this absurd crush he has on Billy _fucking_ Hargrove. 

 

* * *

 

A few days pass before Billy sees his father again. He’d gone away, leaving Susan and Max behind, which was unusual in itself, claiming to be on business. Billy doesn’t care if it means he gets a brief respite from his dad’s abuse. The days have passed in relative peace, in fact. Billy been hanging around Harrington for most of it, learning all he can about the Upside Down and more about Steve himself. 

The front door slams. 

It must be Neil, because it’s close to midnight, and Billy is certain he’s the only one awake. He couldn’t sleep, pent up with energy from being indoors all weekend; the rain still hasn’t let up. He’s been lifting weights instead. Trying to distract himself.

His door swings open.

Neil looks drunk. Billy sees it in the way he slumps against the doorframe, how his eyes are slightly glassy.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He says, slurring.

Billy has no idea what his father is talking about, just stands there staring at him.

“Why has Max been seen with _that_ _Sinclair_ _kid_?” Neils spits Lucas’s last name out like it’s a bad taste.

Billy’s throat constricts.

“I don’t – I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dad”

“Oh, I think you do, Billy, I think you do.”

Neil pushes himself into the room then. He staggers, but Billy isn’t so sure. He’s seen his dad drunk, and it’s nothing like this. Neil has to be tipsy at best. Billy doesn’t know why his father is exaggerating his inebriation; just another cog in the fucked up machine that is Neil Hargrove.

Billy, too defiant for his own good, refuses to move backwards when Neil crowds his space.

“You _let_ Max hang out with him. After I told you not to.”

“I can’t look after her every single minute of every single day.”

His dad doesn’t say anything, and Billy knows he’s said the wrong thing. Which makes the next words that leave his mouth so much easier, because why half-ass it? No point in trying to change if he isn’t going to do anything about.

“You know what, Dad? Max can hang out with whoever she likes, and you can explain to her why you don’t want her being friends with Sinclair.”

“Do you want to repeat that?”

“Yeah, you’re racist, and I’m sick of you telling me what to do!”

Billy sees the split second Neil notices the empty glass on top of the speaker before it’s being smashed over his head. Glass shards clink against the floor. Billy stands motionless, too dazed to move, head spinning.

Neil pushes him, Billy’s back slamming against the wall. A forearm presses against his windpipe, eerily reminiscent of a week ago.

“You say that to me again, and it’ll be the last thing you do.”

Billy’s light-headed, he can feel blood trickling down the back of his neck, but he smiles as he says, “You’re a piece of shit, Dad.”

The punch is expected. Except it goes through the wall right next to Billy’s head. Neil hisses as the plaster cuts his hand, and maybe he really is drunk, if he missed Billy’s face. The moment doesn’t last as Neil drives another fist into Billy’s face, this one catching his nose. Blood gushes down, across Billy’s mouth and he tries not to breath it in, but there’s still Neil’s forearm against his throat and he’s gasping for air.

Another punch causes the signet ring his dad wears to cut a shallow line on his forehead.

“Look at you now, Billy,” His dad is saying through the white noise rushing in his ears, “Just a fucking faggot. Can't even fucking defend yourself." 

His dad pulls back, shifts away so he isn’t touching Billy at all. Billy stares, blinking through tears, breathing heavily through his mouth. He wants to say something more, edge his dad over the point of no return. He almost does, but then Neil brings his arm up again. Billy’s fight or flight response decides _survive_  as he dodges the fist and runs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had to look up australian slang and i'm fucking australian????? wow. this chapter ended up being waaaay to fuckin long for what i originally had planned for it but i hope everyone enjoys it!! 
> 
> also, for your consideration: [lose it by SWMRS ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0_Tc1s4qvFw) is definitely a harringrove song


	4. you're never going to know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope yall enjoy nearly 10k of absolute fuckery

Billy hadn’t thought to grab his car keys in his haste to escape the house. He can see them clearly in his mind where they’ve been left, Scorpion keyring dangling over the side of the crate that makes up his dresser. Instead he’s stuck stumbling his way in the dark, freezing his ass off, and feeling like a literal bloody mess. Blood slowly drips from his nose, and his head pounds. The glass hasn’t down any major damage, which is a fucking miracle.

Somehow, he ends up at Harrington’s.

The walk isn’t too far. It surprises Billy he even remembers how to get there. He doesn’t even know why he’s here, why he didn’t just fuck off and disappear. The winding driveway is daunting. It’s bordered by trees, thick on both sides, and the dead of night makes it look like something out of a horror movie. Billy trips over a loose brick. His knuckles scrap across the ground, trying to catch himself. He’s so exhausted. His back presses into the cold stone, lungs heaving.

What if he just stayed there? 

He gets up. Knocks on the door. Steve opens it.

Billy looks at him, a little lost, a little broken.  

“Billy? What the _fuck_?”

Billy tilts his head, mask falling into place, “Hey, pretty boy.”

Steve stares at him, brown eyes searching for something Billy doesn’t want to know, before moving aside. Steve doesn’t even ask, just lets him in. Billy couldn’t be more thankful that they’re friends now, if you can even call it that. _Friends_ implies too much, like Billy hadn’t crash-landed into Hawkins high school and sieged the empty throne. _Friends_ implies too little, like Billy doesn’t gravitate towards Steve like a moth to flame.

Steve is barely awake, but he leads Billy upstairs. Every step Billy takes makes his head thump. Steve pushes open a door at the end of the hallway, flicks a light on. The harsh light flares behind Billy’s eyelids. The bathroom is too bright, everything reflecting white, Billy making his way towards the sink almost blindly. Steve disappears into the house while Billy splashes his face with water. Billy doesn’t notice Steve return, too preoccupied with trying to get all the blood off.

“What happened to you, man?”  
  
Billy tenses and turns back around. In Steve’s hands are a first aid kit and a bottle of antiseptic.

“Nothing,” Billy says.

Steve looks at him, an eyebrow raised, “Doesn’t look like nothing.”

Steve walks into the room at that, setting his stuff down on the bench, turning around and pushing himself up on the counter. He looks down at Billy now. They’re so close Billy can feel the heat radiating off of Steve’s body. Billy leans against the counter, hipbone pressing uncomfortably into the bench. He gazes at Steve, with his sleep-heavy eyes and brown hair a bird’s nest. He wonders when Steve became the only person he trusts. Even if it is reluctantly.

Billy tries to keep space between them – should keep space between them – but he is so fucking tired. He braces his elbows either side of the sink, head hanging under the tap. Water spills cold with relief over his neck. His left arm burns where it’s pressed flush against Steve’s thigh. The water swirls pink with blood in the sink. Billy slides his eyes shut, breathes in deeply, trying to fill the emptiness in his lungs. He aches all over.  

Hesitant, gentle fingers brush the back his head, and Billy _flinches._ Violently. It’s a full body thing that nearly causes him to spear his head on the faucet. He steps back. Steve is frozen, hand hovering in place where Billy’s head had just been.

“What happened?” Steve whispers, eyes trained on Billy.

“Got into a fight.”

“With who?”

“Does it matter?” Billy replies, heat creeping into his voice, hands clenched at his sides.

“You turned up at my house in the middle of the night.”

Billy wants to deflect, to turn the conversation away from him. He could do it too, if he mentions Steve’s own parents. Billy’s far too observant for his own good; he’s noticed the way Steve doesn’t talk about his parents. Heard rumours of the parties that Steve used to throw, the massive house the go-to for any kind of bash. Tommy mentioned offhandedly that the Harrington’s ‘just leave Steve the house whenever and he doesn’t fucking use it’ and he could zero in on that. Hawkin’s own popular rich boy who has it all, including the absent parents and the fake friends _. It’s not easy being on the top_ filters through his mind. The Billy from California ~~from Australia~~ would’ve already said it all, cutting words spilling from his mouth the instant Steve had spoken. But this Billy, tainted by Indiana, more angry, more cautious than he was, hesitates.

“Billy?” 

Billy glances up. Steve’s looking at him, something like concern reflecting in his eyes and that’s the last thing Billy wants. That look opens a whole can of fucking shit that Billy doesn’t want to go into – their undeniable tension is like flirting with a smoke alarm, one Billy wants to trigger but doesn’t know how. Not to mention everything else going against them; Billy’s established track record of one night stands and Steve’s bitter and broken heart.

“What happened?” Steve asks for a third time.

“Jesus, Harrington, mind your own fucking business,” he says, because of course Billy’s not going to listen to himself.

“Are you always this stubborn?” Steve replies, continues before Billy can get a word in edgewise. “Look, man, tell me or not, but next time this happens? Don’t fucking come here.”

Steve’s pissed, clearly, mood changing so quickly that Billy nearly has whiplash. Not even ten minutes ago Steve let him in without a question. Now he’s basically being kicked out. Good fucking going, Hargrove.

Anger is thick on Billy’s tongue, but the lump in his throat is worse.

“Fine, you wanna know what happened, princess?” Billy spits the name out like a curse, sneer marring his face. “It was my dad, alright?! It’s _always_ been my fucking dad!”  
  
Billy’s nerves are on fire, heart beating a mile a minute, chest tight at the admission.

Steve is silent. Billy doesn’t know what’s worse – his silence at Billy’s words, or what that might mean. The empty look on Steve’s face doesn’t indicate anything. Billy doesn’t want _pity_ , fucking coils back at the thought, but he doesn’t want Steve to completely ignore it. Really, he doesn’t even know what he wants to happen now. Billy almost feels suspended, like he’s floating in a haze of anger, regret, desperation, self-hatred, and something he doesn’t want to name but knows is hope.

Billy’s glaring at Steve. Hot tears are welling up in his eyes. He blinks them back and the moment shatters.

 _“What?_ Your dad did this?”  

It’s hissed so quietly that Billy almost misses it. Billy realised long ago that Steve is slow to anger, so the quick, quiet fury in his voice is almost a welcome reaction. However, it’s exactly the response Billy didn’t want – because God knows he can’t answer that, will never know why Neil does what he does.

Billy doesn’t even know what to say. It’s so different from the conversation he had with Max. She knew his dad is an asshole, just didn’t know the extent. Billy’s used to knowing what string of words will get what reaction. It was like that with Max. He knew what to say so she knew he was telling the truth. It had helped that Billy can read Max like a book; he can’t with Steve. They aren’t quite there, yet.

Steve’s still sitting on the bench top. His hands are clenched around the edge, leaning forward like he’s moments away from pushing himself off. Billy doesn’t know what he’ll do if Steve slips off and comes near him.

“Why?”

“Fuck off,” Billy says, but it’s defeated, and Steve can tell, because he leans backwards againsts the mirror and scrubs a hand over his face.

“Why, Billy?” Steve asks again, voice rising. “Where does he get off on that?!”

“ _I don’t fucking know_ , Steve.” Billy runs a hand harshly through his hair, winces as it tugs against the cuts in his scalp. “I don’t know.”

“I’m sor –“  
  
“Don’t.”

“I –“  
  
“Drop it.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, just looks at him, and Billy doesn’t – can’t – move.

“Please,” Billy says through gritted teeth.

“Okay, okay, just – he – he doesn’t hit Max, does he?”

It’s endearing, how Steve has somehow saddled himself with a bunch of fucking preteens, that his kid step-sister is one of them. It’s good to know, though, that if anything happens to him, at least Steve will look after Max.

Billy laughs, delirious and hysteric, “No. That was all me.”

“You’re – that’s fucked.” Steve says, but it’s not accusatory, just simple fact.

Billy just laughs harder, because he _knows_. His injuries must be finally catching up with him, because everything goes fuzzy and he feels faint.  All of this is too much – the walk through town, the tang of blood in his mouth. His head spinning, skin crawling. Words he doesn’t want to say spilling from his lips. The almost, not quite, tender look on Steve’s face that spells disaster for the both of them.

Billy doesn’t _want_ to say anything more, isn’t sure of where they stand now, and something must show in his face because Steve grabs the antiseptic. 

“Come over here.”

“There’s glass,” Billy says.  
  
“What?” Steve looks confused before Billy’s earlier reaction dawns on him, “Oh, _shit_ , Jesus Christ. _Jesus Christ_.”

Steve leans over, rummages around in the first drawer, and when he leans back up there’s a pair of tweezers in his hand. Billy can’t actually tell if there is glass stuck in his head but that’s probably because he’s still in some state of shock.

“C’mon, idiot.” Steve mutters, because Billy still hasn’t moved, and he realises he’s going to have to turn around for Steve to get at the back of his head.

Billy does, leans back against the counter. Steve’s knees bracket Billy’s hips. It’s so oddly intimate that Billy’s breath stutters when he notices it. The antiseptic stings like a bitch as it sinks into the cuts in his skin. Steve slowly works at the minuscule shards of glass that are lodged in the side of Billy’s head. The process is made more tedious by Billy’s hair and the blood that’s matted it. Billy’s more surprised than anything that Steve works with a steady hand, that Steve knows what he’s doing. It adds to his mystery, Billy thinks, suddenly wanting to know everything about Steve Harrington. The Steve Harrington that convinced the kids to tell him about the Upside Down, the Steve Harrington that saved him with a vicious swing of that baseball bat and a hard grip on his arm, when a month ago he would’ve been left for dead. Billy _burns_ with wanting to know Steve Harrington inside out. That scares him.

It’s edging closer to two in the morning by the time Steve is done. Billy is so exhausted he’s ready to fall over. There’s no way he’s going back home. Tomorrow – today – is Sunday, and he’s going to stay the fuck out of the house while Neil is there.

“Can I crash on your couch?” He asks Steve.

“Sure, but take the guest bed, okay? It’s the door across from here.”

Billy nods his head. Steve goes to walk past him, but Billy catches him by the elbow. It’s a softer parallel to that night in the Byers’ kitchen, Billy’s fingers feather-light where they touch Steve. Steve looks at him, brown eyes filled with an emotion Billy doesn’t want to name. Billy’s aware that something changed; shifted, the last half an hour their transition from not quite enemies into what Billy would call friends and a hint of something more. Steve was all biting remarks and sarcasm when he first arrived in Hawkins, eager for each interaction they had to be over and done with before it began. Now he’s looking at Billy like _that_ – like he’s something to be discovered, protected – and Billy aches with it. It’s like they’ve both loosened something in each other.  

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Billy says, unwilling to acknowledge how tender he feels or sounds, the pet name an afterthought.

Steve, nearly imperceptibly, shifts so his elbow rests more into Billy’s palm, instead of having it caged by his fingers, replies, “It’s okay, Billy.”

* * *

Billy wakes up in stages. He’d crashed hard this morning, crawling into bed barely remembering to kick off his shoes. Sun is flittering in through the curtains bright and sharp across his eyes. There’s a stabbing pain as he blinks and – ah, last night. Neil turning up out of the blue, the fight, escaping his house and stumbling his way across town. Steve.

He remembers the shocked look that crossed Steve’s face when he opened the door. Billy must have looked like a mess with his bloodied face and tangled hair. What possessed Steve to let him in, help him, Billy doesn’t know, but he’s thankful all the same. Even if they’re floating uncertainly between enemies and friends and whatever the fuck Billy doesn't know. 

And it’s not like he hasn’t _noticed_ Steve. On the contrary, Steve’s been about the only thing on his mind lately. Other than the entire Hawkins-is-plagued-with-monsters-from-a-parallel-world thing.

It hasn’t been subtle, this dance of theirs. It happens like this in Billy’s head: they clash, from the day he and his bad attitude arrived, up until he’d hauled Steve away from that fridge door. After that, Billy felt like he’d dived head fucking first into it all. Showing up here to apologise, the word a sour taste on his tongue. Steve waiting for him after school, not even protesting when Harrington tells him to trade his weekend for the fucking hell that ended up being the junkyard. Steve thinks he’s good at hiding his emotions, but Billy’s adept at reading people. He’d noticed the way Steve had become quieter in the wake of his breakup, the off-days that he still has. The awkward atmosphere of the cafeteria had been overwhelming, people trying to not eavesdrop. Billy deciding _fuck it_ and walking over to their table and taking Wheeler down a few pegs. The pure sheer relief on Steve’s face when Billy had done so, the mumbled _my prince_ that curled tight in his stomach. And now he’s here.

Steve offering bits and pieces of himself and Billy replying in kind.

Last night might’ve been the largest chunk. Last night is significant in other ways for Billy, despite the whole my-dad-is-a-fucking-abusive-asshole confession thing. If that fight had gone any differently, Billy isn’t sure where he would’ve gone. Probably trying to get as much alcohol as he can off the shady liquor store owner on the outskirts of town. Probably would’ve ended up with him and the Camaro wrapped around a tree or something equally as tragic. 

Life changes, his entire perspective skews to allow for this horror movie that’s encroaching in on him. Neil’s violence, Susan’s indifference, his burgeoning friendship with Max, Steve’s cautious trust, and his own turbulent emotions. Everything is darker, almost like the apparent nightmare that shadows Hawkins taints all. Billy’s mind is all over the goddamn place. He doesn’t know how to make sense of everything.

Billy treads quietly down the stairs. The daylight changes everything, and Billy can tell that the Harrington’s really are loaded. Of course, he’s seen Steve’s car; the Beamer stands out in the school parking lot like a sore thumb. But the house is on an entirely different level. It’s… large. Almost comically so, empty in nearly every sense. Artwork lines the wall, mostly modern pieces that Billy has no hope of recognising.

He’s reached downstairs now.

From the base of the stairs, Billy can see into the kitchen and the lounge room. Golden light casts a hazy glow across everything, dust catching and sparkling in the sun. The clock reads nearly two in the afternoon. Billy’s missed most of the day, which was exactly what he didn’t want to do.

What surprises him though, is Steve, asleep on the couch. Sunlight is spilling over him, yellow-gold and warm and Billy feels soft. Steve’s hair is a fucking mess, blanket tangled around his legs. Billy wants to wake him up, but can’t bring himself to do it. It’s his fault Steve’s asleep now, the least he could do it leave the boy be. But this massive house is slightly unsettling. Unfamiliar noises, the vastness of it, the lack of movement. Billy’s so used to living in something small, something near the beach. The rustle of trees in the wind is oddly similar to the familiar sound of waves, but it’s just that much too different, makes Billy uncomfortable and on edge.

Besides, Billy really wants some coffee, and it’d be rude to just search through Steve’s kitchen.

Who is he kidding? He’s going to find the coffee anyway.

Billy makes his way into the kitchen. It’s about as large as every other part of the house, massive island in the middle that looks like something out of a magazine. It seems to sparkle in the afternoon light, clean and pristine. Untouched.

He’s pulling a mug out of a cabinet when Steve trudges into the kitchen. Steve’s wrapped the blanket around his shoulders so it trails behind him like a cape. Between that and his sleep-mussed hair he’s probably the cutest thing Billy’s ever seen. And Billy admits that rather reluctantly, because he’s all pent up emotions and uncertainness after last night, unsure of how he’s feeling in regards to Steve and vice versa. What does Steve think of him now, in light of his revelation?

He can’t answer the question because Steve yawns, loud and wide-mouthed, and mumbles, “You’re making coffee?”

All Billy can do is nod, watching as Steve stumbles his way into the kitchen and sits, half falling, into a chair and slumping forward onto the island counter. Steve clearly isn’t a morning person at all, unlike Billy, who is still bitter that it’s _two in the afternoon_. Steve's tiredness must be rubbing off, because Billy yawns as he nods. Not like Steve can see it, his eyes shut against the sun and already half asleep again.

Billy retrieves another mug regardless. He goes through the process of making coffee, asking Steve where shit is and receiving murmured replies that he can barely hear. He makes his own black, and leaves Steve’s the same when he puts it down in front of the other boy. Steve reaches blindly for it, an amusing sight; his head barely out of the blanket wrapped around him, hand poking out to grasp at the mug, squinting his eyes against the bright sun.

“Thanks, man,” Steve says, only to make a face once he takes a sip.

Steve gestures a hand towards the fridge. It takes Billy a few seconds to realise what he means. Milk, there’s milk in the fridge and Steve is too fucking lazy to get it his goddamn self. And Billy must be feeling particularly nice today, because he gets up and grabs it anyway. Really, he thinks, what is the point now, that Steve knows about his dad? May as well tear down all his fucking walls. Steve holds his cup out expectantly, looking at Billy through almost closed eyes. The afternoon sun is pouring through the window that Billy threw open. It warms his skin, but turns Steve’s brown eyes gold where it hits and causes Steve to blink his eyes shut. Billy pours milk into the mug and, God, the entire moment is so domestic, Billy could throw up.

So instead of whatever Billy had anticipated that day, he sits in Steve Harrington’s kitchen, drinking coffee and contemplating when this became his life. When did Steve become anything more than Harrington, his named filled with hatred on Billy’s tongue. It must have been somewhere between two weeks ago in the junkyard, Billy jumping to his defense with Wheeler, and ending up here. A split second choice he made without realising. The now tentative friendship that’s on the edge of breaking into one thing or another. Billy knows if he fucks anything up they’ll go straight back to square one. Back to king and crownless, unknowable to each other and indifferent. But it’ll be worse, because Steve knows now, and that changes everything in Billy’s mind. And isn’t it ironic, that his dad is the reason for his life to change so exponentially. Billy could argue that Neil either ruined it or made it better by sending him out to find Max that night. Of course, how could Billy forget? The whole fucking reason why he’s here now; he found out about the Upside Down.

Really, it’s this entire government conspiracy that is the root of all Billy’s problems. He got dragged into it, didn’t even get a say, just got told by a bunch of kids that all the monsters are real. It’s still mind-boggling, even after fighting them off in the junkyard. Yeah, it explains a lot – like why Steve is so protective over the children he’s seemingly adopted. If Billy was anyone else, he probably would be too. But he isn’t, and Max can look after herself, so he doesn’t necessarily worry. He _will_ leave that to Steve, who has already proven that he worries about the kids far more than what he lets on. There’s also that bit that Billy’s missing, whatever they wouldn’t tell him. His instincts scream at him, that he needs to know. It’s something vital. Something so important at the heart of all of this. It’s shit like this that has gotten him into trouble before. Why else would they move to fucking _Indiana_ , after what had happened?

Steve interrupts his inner monologue, “Hey, you want pancakes?”

Billy doesn’t even know what to say, just sits there, because honest to God, what the fuck is happening? The last 24 hours have been wild, something Billy is used to being but not in this context. This context is that he’s stood up to Neil, is that he has someone to trust, is that he’s sitting in Steve fucking Harrington’s kitchen and made him coffee, is Steve – half asleep – making him pancakes.

Everything’s changing too fast for Billy to keep up.

And so, in the afternoon sun, Billy watches Steve make a fucking mess of the kitchen in his quest for pancakes. Flour goes everywhere and _really, Harrington, do you know how to cook?_ To which Steve replies, with a smile, _obviously_.

The pancakes are delicious.

They migrate to the lounge after that. The way Billy curls into the couch is a testament to how relaxed he’s feeling; legs tucked in front of him, slouched backwards, arms wrapped around his shins. It’s late. Late enough that Billy should head back to his house. But the thought of returning, of seeing Neil, fills his veins with ice and anxiety and it’ll be too soon. His wounds, both the physical and verbal ones, are still too fresh for him to think about what he’d say to his dad.

Rarely does Neil get that angry, to use anything other than his fists. Billy is used to Neil. Controlled, measured anger that he can read. The way he flew off the handle yesterday reminds Billy too much of his mother. The way she’s the complete opposite of his dad. How it’s been ten years since Billy last saw her. 

Thinking of his own parents turns into thinking about Steve’s.

“Steve,” Billy starts, because he can’t help himself, he wants to know. “Where are your parents?”  
  
The change in the air is palpable. The look on Steve’s face shifts to what Billy thinks is sadness for the briefest second before he goes blank.

“Oh, you know, they’re away on business.”

The way Steve says it is almost nonchalant, but Billy can hear the bitterness underlying it.

“That’s cool, what do they do?” Billy says, imparts an air of genuine curiosity.

Steve’s hands twist together, nervously, and Billy thinks he should’ve shut up when he had the chance.

“My dad runs a company.” That explains the wealth, doesn’t explain the absence. “Mum helps out, kind of like a personal assistant. I don’t –“  
  
Steve cuts himself off. Billy wonders if it’s  _I don’t know_ or _I don’t care_ or both Steve stopped himself from saying. It doesn’t really negate any of the rumours Billy has heard, just adds precedence to them. Billy wonders idly how close was Steve with his old circle. Tommy, Carol, the lot of them. Of course, he heard about their falling out over the cinema sign shit that went down. But he took that with a grain of salt, too familiar with how high school hierarchy works to believe it all. Though it must have been true, he can tell now, thinking about what Tommy has told him and what Steve doesn’t reveal.

“Must be lonely, right?”

Steve doesn’t say anything at first, just lifts his head and looks at Billy. Billy can’t read the look on his face, doesn’t know what to make of it. Steve looks half forlorn, half surprised. Billy doesn’t know if he’s stuck his foot in his mouth or what.

“It’s not bad,” Steve says, with a twist to his lips. “I’m used to it.”

“At least you get the pool to yourself.”  
  
Steve laughs, but it’s stilted, and Billy can tell he just said the wrong thing.

They lapse into silence. Billy wants to ask more, wants to know more, but doesn’t know how. Steve’s sitting there looking like someone just kicked his puppy. Billy wonders why – was it because he bought up his folks, was it the comment about the pool? Neither of them really measure up to what Billy knows already. Well, the parent thing does. He should know better than to dredge up shit like that, but he can’t help himself. He barely knows Steve and he wants to change that. Shitty parents are something he can relate to, their common ground, but he doesn’t know how to get Steve to realise that. Yesterday should’ve been an olive branch, clear as day, but somehow it wasn’t and it’s only making Steve more closed off.

“No one –“  
  
“I shouldn’t –“  
  
They speak at the same time, Billy pushing himself off the couch, Steve running a hand through his hair. Billy lowers himself down, and Steve looks at him. _No one told me about the drawings on the wall_ dies on Billy’s tongue at the haunted look in Steve’s eyes.

Billy gestures a hand, thinking _olive branch, white flag, fucking take it_.

“I shouldn’t even be telling you this, but we already told you about the Upside Down, so…”

Billy nods in encouragement, “What is it?”

Steve is silent for a moment, before he says, “Have you heard about Barbara Holland?”

The name sounds oddly familiar, like Billy’s heard it in passing. It doesn’t really ring any bells. Billy can’t be certain. He shakes his head no.

“Okay, well, what do you know about Will going missing? Has Max told you anything?”  
  
“Not much,” Billy says, not thinking about how distant him and Max were – slightly still are. “Only what’s been said around school. That he went missing and turned up a while later.”

Steve huffs, unimpressed, mutters something Billy can’t hear.

“Okay, so, Will went missing – you know that, everyone knows that – but around the same time, Barbara Holland went missing, too. I threw a party, and Nancy showed up, with Barb, and she – she went missing.”

Billy’s doesn’t say anything.

Steve continues.

“Up until a couple of weeks ago, Nance and I were going to Barb's parent’s place, having dinner with them. It was Nancy’s idea, give them some kind of closure, you know? But then they heard some shit, I don’t know where from, and decided to hire a private investigator. They never found out what had really happened.”

And it can’t be what Billy’s thinking, it can’t be – but Steve had opened with Will’s disappearance and that _means_ something.

The ball drops.

“But Barb got taken by the Demogorgon. She got taken, that night, at my place, just after Will had gone and she was sitting near my pool and now I can’t look out there without thinking about it.” 

“Jesus Christ, Harrington.” What else can Billy say, really.

“She kind of – she did – get swept under the rug, with everything that happened and I hate myself because I didn’t care about Barb then, she was just Nancy’s friend. But she was Nancy’s best friend and I shouldn’t of been such an asshole and –“

It’s clear to Billy that this is something Steve’s agonised over for a long ass fucking time. Likely has never gotten to talk about it. There are tears welling up in his eyes. Billy doesn’t know what to do.

“And now –“ Steve laughs, reminding Billy of his own delirious sound “ – Nancy and Jonathan have gone to the same private investigator and told him everything. Because he’s been asking about El and Nancy can’t leave well enough alone and Jonathan is a fucking piece of work and –“

Steve takes a gulping breath, hands scrubbing furiously at his eyes.

Billy’s confused.

Private investigator?

_Who is El?_

“Now I can’t stand being in my own house alone.” Steve says, and Billy is half tempted to say _well_ , _I’m here_ but it’s not the time for it. 

Instead, Billy asks, “Who’s El?”  
  
The look on Steve’s face is textbook deer-in-the-headlights.  

“Oh – _shit_ , I didn’t – _no_.” Steve chokes out. “Pretend you never heard that.”

“Pretend I -? What the fuck?”

“I never said that, okay? If anyone asks you about El – you don’t know anything. _Please_ , Billy.”  
  
“Yeah – yeah, okay, calm down.”

“I mean it, Billy, if you say a word –“

Billy pushes himself off the couch now, but stops once he stands because he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. There’s anger at Steve’s backpedalling. There’s something – call it concern – over how Steve is feeling. There’s a rush of self-hatred at the brief thought that enters his mind; that Billy should tell someone about this.

“Keep your threats to yourself, princess,” Billy says, mind made up and walking over and crouching down in front of Steve’s chair.

Steve’s looking down at him. Which is nothing unusual – Steve is slightly taller than him, but it’s more prominent now, Steve folded into the chair and Billy on his knees. Steve’s arms are crossed in front of him, and Billy knows enough about body language to read _self-consciousnes_ s and _regret_. Billy can see stray tears making their way down his face, Steve’s eyes bloodshot. He lifts his hand, projecting each move before he brushes a tear from Steve’s cheek. Steve’s eyes slide shut and he sighs. Something squirms underneath Billy’s skin, unfamiliar with this soft, gentle, side of himself. Steve tilts his head towards Billy’s palm, but Billy’s already drawing away.

Between last night, that final moment in the bathroom doorway, and right now Billy can’t handle anything more.

He sits down, back pressing into the coffee table.

“Are you okay?” Billy asks, for once in his life.

Steve’s on the edge of breaking, Billy can tell. They both are. Ready to unravel and maybe find themselves – each other – in the chaos of it all.

“No, not really,” Steve replies, voice unsteady. “I don’t think I ever was.”  
  
And that breaks Billy’s heart, just a little bit. 

* * *

 At school the next day, they pass each other in the hallway. Steve had dropped him off at home ridiculously early, somewhere near five this morning to avoid Neil, so he could get his car and drive himself and Max in. Steve looks about as tired as he feels, and Billy feels a small ounce of regret and a whole fuck load of gratitude for Harrington.

The entire weekend was something Billy hadn’t anticipated in the slightest. They’d spent the whole of yesterday together. The afternoon in particular was an eye-opener for Billy

It explained why Steve gave up being king, made sense of all the nuances he knows as Steve’s. It explains why he suddenly disappeared from the cafeteria the same time it got around that Wheeler and Byers are an item. It also makes Billy feel more vindicated at the fact that he took on Nancy Wheeler and _won_. Steve’s fortitude is impressive, more so, now that Billy is half-aware of what’s going on in his brain. Billy’s proud of him. In an odd sense. Billy can’t imagine what it would be like to go through that; feeling such deep remorse like Steve does. Steve barely even knew Barb, didn’t have any control over the situation. It wasn’t like he knew what would happen. Yet, here Steve is a year later and somehow still functioning, and Billy’s proud of him.

When they pass each other, Steve gives him a small, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smile.

At the end of the day, Billy is at his locker. It sticks when he goes to open it. It’s just another thing added to his list of Why Hawkins Is A Complete Shithole. Hanging around until graduation, which is too fucking far away, in Billy’s mind, seems impossible. Everything about Hawkins makes his skin itch. Billy can’t wait to leave.

The first thing he does, after he gets the hell out, is go back to Cali. Back to the beach, back to something normal and familiar. The thought of leaving Max here, alone, with Susan and Neil makes him uneasy. They’re closer, true, but there’s still a chasm between them. A chasm that’s filled with Billy’s past actions, words left unsaid about Neil and Susan and Billy’s mom, and Max’s reluctance to trust him.  

Billy yanks the door open. A piece of paper falls to the floor. Billy shoves his textbooks into his locker before he bends down to grab it.

It’s folded in half, _Hargrove_ scrawled across the front in large-lettered chicken scratch.

 _Meet at the junkyard on Friday after practice._ There’s no greeting.  
_Bring Max._  
And with a line through it, but still legible; _~~thanks for yester  
~~__Steve._

On Billy’s shit-list, mentally underlined with red in all capitals is _ ALIENS_. The space above that is a blacked-out rectangle that once read _King Steve_. 

* * *

Max and him hang out in the junkyard for what seems like forever before the rest of them show up in Steve’s car. Max mentions that the Wheeler kid had been missing from school. When only Lucas and Dustin tumble out of the car, Billy wonders where he could be.

It’s pitch black when they set out. They’re walking along the train tracks aimlessly, Steve and Billy up front and the kids trailing behind. Billy swings the crowbar in time with his steps.

It’d be too quiet, if it weren’t for the kids fighting behind them. Lucas and Dustin are going on about the rule of law. Billy doesn’t know what the fuck that means. They’re getting louder and louder. Billy never realised how annoying they are.

Billy trades a glance with Steve. Steve looks nonplussed.

Billy’s walking backwards, now. Trying not to trip over the wooden slats of the tracks is harder than it looks. Steve has stopped, hands spread out in front of him in a _what the fuck_ gesture. The kids are ignoring him. Steve huffs, shoulders shaking and Billy can’t tell if he’s laughing or what. He starts walking again. Billy waits until Steve’s closer to him, walking so Steve’s in front of him and the empty track at his back.

Billy jerks his head towards the kids, “You know what they’re fighting about?”

“When they’re going to the arcade next.” Steve doesn’t even have to stop and listen. Billy’s slightly impressed.

“How’d you end up babysitting them, anyway?”  
  
Steve looks at him, “Dustin showed up and stopped me apologising to Nancy and making a fool out of myself.”

“Good kid,” Billy smirks, and Steve rolls his eyes.  
  
“He is. He’s smart as hell but a pain in the ass, let me tell you,” Steve says, throwing a glance over his shoulder.   

They both fall quiet, walking a few more metres before Billy stops and lets Steve pass him so the kids are forced to stop lest they crash into him.

“Can you shit stains shut the fuck up?”

They go silent for all of two seconds before they start bickering again, dragging Steve into the conversation. Billy isn’t really listening, but he stops dead when he hears Lucas.

“A cat? Dart ate a _cat_?”

“What – _no_ – of course not.” Dustin denies. “Why would Dart eat a cat? That’s ridiculous.”  
  
Max laughs, Lucas groans. Did Dustin completely forget about the junkyard and how he and Steve both nearly died?

“What’re you talking about, Dustin?” Steve says from beside him. “Dart ate Mewes.”

“Who’s Mewes?” Billy and Max ask at the same time.  
  
“ _He ate Mewes_?” Lucas says, sounding astonished.

“Mewes is – was – Dustin’s cat.” Steve clarifies, and all of them fall silent.

Billy opens his mouth to talk and – something screams, shattering the silence.

It sounds like a demodog.

Steve swings his torch to the left, shining the light into the bushes. Lucas pushes past him, Dustin following and then the three of them are following the sound. Max is standing next to him.

“Why are you following the sound? Guys?!”

“C’mon, Max, I’ll protect you.” Billy says, fully aware that Max can look after herself, but he has the crowbar and is trying to be better.  

Max snorts, “Piss off, Billy.”  
  
It’s exactly what he’s expecting.

Billy grins and follows the others into the forest.

The others haven’t gotten very far; they stand at the top of a hill. At the base is a massive building, satellite lights blinking and Billy realises it’s the lab. The one that he’s heard so much about between Dustin’s first explanation of the Upside Down and the rumours that still float around school.

So this is where it all began.

They crash through the forest without a care. Billy can’t help but think that they should be more careful, quieter because who knows where those things are.

Steve is at the front, the kids in the middle and Billy brings up the rear. Through the trees he can see a barb-wired fence that spans for miles. There’s a gate house and next to it is a beat-up car. It barely clicks in his mind that it’s Jonathan Byers’ car as they burst through the tree line and there’s a shocked _Steve?!_ ringing through the air.

“Nancy? Jonathan?” Steve replies and it’s rather comic, their shocked voices, the kids looking back and forth between them.

Billy comes to stand next to Steve. He sees Nancy’s eyes flicker back and forth and wonders what she’s going to say. The crowbar swings up with a whispered _go on, I dare you,_  landing to rest on his shoulder. Jonathan shifts in front of Nancy. That’s precious, Billy thinks, as if Byers even has half a chance against him. 

For a moment, it feels like a standoff. Nancy eyeing them up, Jonathan the cautious hero. Billy is clearly the villain. Steve either his partner in crime or hostage or perhaps both. The kids are bystanders, unaware of the tension between the four teenagers.

There’s another scream. They all turn towards the lab, and watch as the lights flicker and die.

Jonathan walks into the gatehouse.

“The electricity just died, idiot,” Billy says, after a solid five minutes of watching Byers unsuccessfully try to open the gate.

Jonathan glares at him, walking over to Nancy who has a similar look on her face. The couple lean against Byers’ car, heads bent together and Billy can only imagine what they’re talking about. The kids are sitting on the road now. Billy kind of wants to join them. He’s over Wheeler’s petty bullshit. He thought it would’ve been obvious, considering what went down in the cafeteria the other week, but apparently not. They haven’t had any more run ins, half because Billy’s trying to be on his best behaviour and half because Billy knows they’ve both got shit going on that Steve’s mentioned in passing. The private investigator stuff. Instead, Billy leans against the wall of the control room, shoulder pressed against Steve’s.

Steve’s flipping the torch over in his hand. He fidgets a lot, Billy’s noticed; with the padlock after practice that one time, with the lighter in the bus, now the torch. Steve’s bag is at his feet, nail-bat sticking out of it and Billy leans over to shove the crowbar in there. He doubts he needs it. Something’s going on in there, Billy knows, but if no one else is on edge then neither is he. There’s the gate they can’t open and a steep uphill driveway between them and the lab itself.

“Pretty boy,” Billy says, head turned and voice quiet. “What are they doing here?”  
  
Steve’s hunched against the wall, and when Billy shifts and stands they’re at eye level with each other. The harsh headlights from Byers’ car are pointed away from them. Billy’s momentarily distracted by how soft everything looks in the moonlight glow. Steve’s brown eyes are dark, almost black. They flicker over Billy’s shoulder to look at Nancy and Jonathan. Whatever Steve sees he doesn’t like, rolling his eyes before he’s looking back at Billy.

“Mike and Will haven’t been at school, though I don’t know why they’d be here. Something must be up with Will.”

Steve’s perceptive, more so that what he lets on. Billy wouldn’t of thought of that. Mainly because he doesn’t know _what the fuck is happening_ half the time. Which gets on his nerves like nothing else. Billy’s not – let’s not call it obsessed. Rather, Billy needs to know everything about everything and he always has. He was like that as a kid. It drove his mother nuts. Billy heard about Dustin’s curiosity voyage from Max, who heard it from Dustin himself, and Billy hates to admit it; he sees himself in the kid. Before everything went to hell, when he still got to go to the local library and he wasn’t the resident bad boy.

“Poor kid,” Billy murmurs.

Steve gives him a look. 

“What? He’s gone through hell, probably worse than what I’m imagining because you guys haven’t told me everything,” Billy shoots his own look at Steve, who ducks his head and Billy thinks of the panic the name El caused. “I feel for the kid.”

“Will’s brave.”  
  
Steve doesn’t elaborate. Billy can read between the lines. Dustin’s recollection of events and rumours about the Byers’ own deadbeat dad float through Billy’s head.

“You’ve got to be, in this world,” Billy says, not really thinking, remembering laying in Steve’s driveway and almost giving up then and there.

Billy can feel Steve’s eyes on him, can imagine the searching look on his face. Billy ignores him in favour of turning back around and sliding down the side of the wall. He leans his head back and looks up at Steve. He can’t see in the dark, can’t tell where Steve is looking, whether it’s down at him or back at Nancy or the kids. He can see, though, the torch flipping in his hands again, the metal catching in the dim light.

Billy’s kind of glad that conversation didn’t go any further.

There’s a flash of light and suddenly the lab comes alive.

Every light is switched on, each floor bright against Billy’s eyes. Steve nearly drops the torch onto his head.

 _Shit, shit, shit_ , follows Dustin as he runs over to the control box. He can hear Dustin tearing it apart, trying to open the gate. There’s a triumphant sound and Billy hears a machine whirring. It steadily becomes louder, almost like a car engine.

Probably because it is.

Jonathan’s car screams past them, up the hill and disappearing in the dark.

“What the fuck? They just -? Do they not _think_?”

“Like you do, Billy,” Max replies, and she does have a point.  
  
“Shut up, Max.”  
  
“They obviously know something –“ Dustin starts, only to be cut off by Lucas.

“Shouldn’t we go up there too?”

“Absolutely not,” Steve states.

They all turn around to face him. His arms are crossed, and he looks every bit the babysitter he claims to be, putting his foot down. The kids and Steve bicker between each other, Billy staying well out of it. Both Dustin and Lucas argue for following, Max can’t take a side, and Steve is stuck on repeat.

Two pairs of headlights dip over the horizon. Billy moves towards the gate to get a better look. The first driver is erratic, swerving wildly. When it crests over the last hill, Billy can barely make out the shape of Byer’s sedan. Wind rushes past his ears as Jonathan drives past him, too fucking close and Billy takes a step back, into the chain-link fence. He clutches at it, thrown off balance and all his weight leaning into the gate.

“Billy!” He hears distantly, Steve yelling over the sound of the car.

The gate creaks ominously, the wire bending underneath him. He pushes himself off just as Steve reaches him. Something tears. Billy barely has a chance to gather his balance before Steve’s pulling him out of the way.

The second car comes through, a truck that has **HAWKINS POLICE DEPART.** emblazoned on the side.

Then the truck stops, and the Chief of Police is yelling at the kids.

As if this entire thing couldn’t get anymore fucked up.

Steve drags him over to the group. Lucas, Dustin, and Max are piling into the backseat of the cop car. Steve’s sliding into the front seat. Billy stands in between each car, eyes flicking over to see that Jonathan’s car is just as full as the truck.

Like hell he’d willingly get into a car with Wheeler and Byers, even if there was room.

“Shove over, princess,” Billy says as he opens the passenger door.

He thinks he hears someone laugh, but he’s too busy pushing Steve onto the bench seat to really notice. It’s not an easy feat. Steve’s half on, half off and his head is ducked to avoid the roof. As soon as Billy climbs in, pressing uncomfortably into the door to give Steve room, Hopper floors it.

Tyres screech as the car accelerates. Hopper flies over a speed bump at the end of the winding driveway. It jolts the car, Steve bumping into the roof and the kids crying out in the back. The next second, the back of the truck bumps over a kerb and tips Steve into his lap. The air in his lungs leaves in a rush.

“Fucking hell, Steve,” he grumbles, even as his hand lifts and settles against Steve’s side to steady him. 

“Language,” Jim Hopper says, driving over another kerb and onto the main road, as if this is a normal occurrence.

* * *

They drive for what feels like miles.

Billy and Max are both silent. Steve wonders if it’s a conscious choice or if the others are talking too much for them to speak. Hopper won’t answer their questions, anyway, maintaining that he’ll talk when everyone’s back together again.

When they pull up at the Byers house, Steve heaves a sigh of relief.

Everyone makes their way inside. Hop carries Will inside and God, the kid is so pale Steve’s breath catches. He doesn’t know Will as well as Dustin, or Lucas, but he’s aware that everyone here is tied to him. That Will is one half as to why they’re doing this. The other, Eleven. 

Joyce and Hopper disappear into the back of the house. Jonathan stays close to Will, Nancy with Mike. Dustin, Max, and Lucas sit on the couch. Billy’s no where to be seen.

Sombreness settles over the house. Conversation is hushed, everyone quiet and Steve doesn’t really know what to do with himself. He can’t join Nance, doesn’t want anything to do with Jonathan. The kids probably think he’s overbearing enough as it is. He can’t find Billy, which is concerning because Steve doesn’t want Billy messing shit up in Joyce’s house.

Billy appears through the front door, smoke wafting behind him. Steve should’ve known.

Joyce and Hopper emerge and shit instantly hits the fan.

“Tell me, since when did the police department get involved in all of this?” Billy’s voice rumbles with danger and shivers run up Steve’s spine. “Because I was under the impression that all of this was, well, illegal.”

Steve realises that because Billy doesn’t know about El, he doesn’t know how deep Hop is in this.

“It is,” Hopper replies, arms crossed and staring at Billy.

They’re on opposite sides of the room. Joyce is at Hopper's side, but everyone else is spread between them. Billy leans against the front door, calm as could be but anger burns in his eyes.  

“By the way, when are you going to pay that speeding fine I gave you?”

Steve hadn’t thought about that – that Billy had met Hopper before. It shouldn’t surprise him, considering how Billy acts, but it does. Billy’s face doesn’t disclose anything. Steve can read fury in the way Billy rolls his shoulders and waits with baited breath.

Joyce is watching with a closed expression. Steve wonders about what she’s heard about Billy, because she must have, between Will and Jonathan. Steve would bet anything it’s all been negative.

“Probably when you stop manipulating everyone here.” Billy grins. Someone in the room gasps. 

“Excuse me?”

“No one knew where Will or Mike were, not their friends, not even their own siblings. You don’t answer anyone’s questions on the way here, then disappear with her,” Billy jerks her head towards Joyce. “You leave a group of kids and a couple of teenagers to fend off the real threat. And then we all just happen to show up at that lab? What a fucking coincidence, right?”

Billy walks forward, predator after prey, all eyes on him. Steve never realised Billy actually knew the children's names, let alone consider himself apart of their group.

“There’s clearly something else bigger going on here,” Billy says, gesturing an arm towards Will comatose on the lounge. “Something you’re keeping to yourself.”  

Hopper stands straighter, arms dropping to his sides. Billy cracks his knuckles. Everything about the two of them is intimidating.

“You gonna hit me, kid?”

Steve doesn’t miss that Hop is deflecting, that Billy is _right_. Because if it was something to do with El, Hopper would tell them all, wouldn’t he?

Billy lunges.

Steve grabs him before he can swing.

He drags Billy out of the room before anyone really processes what just happened. The entire confrontation barely last five minutes.

Steve pulls Billy into a room blindly.

It’s the bathroom.

“You can’t just go around hitting the chief of police, Billy,” Steve hisses quietly, knows the walls are paper thing and that everyone will be straining to hear them.

Steve drops his bag to the floor, somehow forgetting he had it slung on his back. It drops with a heavy thud, the crowbar and the nail bat clinking together. He starts pacing. Billy drops to sit on the edge of the bath.

“He deserves it.”  
  
“You don’t know what Hopper’s done.”  
  
“That was kind of my point.”

Steve doesn’t deign him with a reply. He keeps pacing, passing in front of Billy every few steps. The bathroom isn’t overly spacious, but it’s not exactly small, either. He can walk the length in just five strides. But it’s enough for him to nervously preoccupy himself, hand tugging at his hair. He should get it cut soon.

He turns on his heel.

He thinks back to when they were in his bathroom. Billy standing cautious and guarded in front of him. Himself perched on the sink counter, frozen at Billy’s revelation, only for anger and concern to surge through him a moment later. The way Billy had shot down any sort of apology. The way Billy had let Steve take care of him. Steve thinks that both of their barriers crumbled that night, heralding a change that Steve is ready for. It’s so very different from now. Now, he’s on a knife’s edge of emotion as he processes Hopper’s silent confession. Billy is stoic, all calculating anger as he sits fuming quietly.

Billy breaks the silence, “I was right.”

He doesn’t want to acknowledge that Hopper has probably been lying to them about something. Maybe everything. Steve wouldn’t put it past him.

“I know,” Steve says, voice catching as the admission cuts deep.

Steve opens his mouth to say more, but there’s a scream from outside, one that Steve recognises as a demodog. He looks at Billy, who’s looking at him with wide eyes. Steve scrambles and rushes out of the room. He forgets the bat, his bag near the sink. He turns back around, slamming into Billy. They stumble together, almost into the wall. Somehow, they stay upright, Steve’s hands clutching at Billy’s jacket. Billy chest is firm under his hands, moving with each deep breath and Steve can’t focus. He pulls away. Billy shoves the bat into his hands. The crowbar is in his.

They run into the front of the cabin. The others are gathered into a half semi-circle surrounding the door. Hopper’s asking Jonathan if he can use a shot gun and Steve can hear Billy’s quiet chuckle when Jonathan stammers a reply. Nancy grabs it instead, shooting Jonathan a look, cocking the gun. Steve swings the bat with a flourish.

They can hear it outside. It moves through the undergrowth, leaves rustling. Steve twists around sharply when something thumps against the door. He realises belatedly that they’d all moved as one.

Billy is to his right, Lucas behind him, Lucas shielding Max with his sling shot.

From the corner of his eye he can see Mike lift what looks like some kind of paper weight. Jonathan and Joyce huddled together on the other side of Hopper in the middle of them all.

Glass shatters as it crashes through the window.

The demodog goes limp with a final whine and then they’re all turning towards the door. Steve watches the lock undo itself and flicks his eyes sideways to Billy. He knows it’s Eleven on the other side, knows that he should’ve told Billy about her. Billy’s eyes are narrowed. Steve hears the door creak open. He should look back around, but his gaze is stuck on Billy. 

His jean jacket is wrecked from getting caught on the fence. One arm dangles detached from the shoulder. There’s blood smeared near the collar and Steve realises it must have been from him, not a moment ago when they ran into each other. He looks down at his hands. There’s blood swelling out of a cut near his palm that Steve doesn’t remember getting.

Steve can hear El’s footsteps, so loud that they nearly echo through the room.

“El?” Mike says, and surprise shifts across Billy’s face.

Steve wonder’s how Billy will react when he hears about El’s true story. Because he will, Steve has no doubt, and he knows it’ll probably be him who tells.

“Mike,” El replies.

It is so good to hear her voice, Steve thinks, Billy’s face now unreadable as everything falls into place.


	5. what leads you in the night, a question of right

El walks through the door and it’s like something switches in the room. It’s been a year. It’s been a year and El is still alive and maybe they have a chance after all.

Steve doesn’t want to think that Billy was right about Hopper.

Mike comes to the same realisation.

Watching Mike yell Billy’s suspicious at Hopper causes Steve to realise that he should’ve known. He should’ve suspected. It makes sense, that Hopper's been hiding her and it hurts because God knows none of them would snitch.

It escalates and Hopper pulls Mike into a room, the door slamming, but their voices are only muffled. Steve can still hear every word. Mike’s voice cracks and then people are crowding around El to welcome her home.

Steve hangs back.

Dustin and Lucas cheerfully greet El. Steve watches as she brushes Max off like nothing. Billy bristles beside him, shifting his weight and Steve touches his forearm to hold him back. Max drops her hand and turns away. Steve watches Billy go after her, his hand slipping from Billy’s wrist. Steve doesn’t know why El just did that, or when Billy decided that Max needed protecting as they disappear down the hall. From the corner of Steve’s eye, he sees Lucas twist their way briefly before turning back to his friends.

There’s a lull in their conversation that has El waving at him. Steve smiles back, sure that El doesn’t notice the way his eyes keep flicking to the hallway. Mike and Hopper reappear; Mike’s face is blotchy and red and there’s something haunted lurking in the way Hopper slips around Joyce into the kitchen.

Every one of them drift apart over the next few minutes.

Steve spies Nancy and Jonathan talking, avoids their corner and Joyce next to them with Will. Steve’s vaguely aware that El and Mike have disappeared. He doesn’t know – doesn’t care where Hopper is. Steve’s floating around, unsure of where he fits. His eyes catch Max’s red hair in the hallway, watches as she slides down the wall. He can’t see Billy. Lucas walks over, whispering quietly as he settles against the opposite wall.

Steve hovers for a few minutes just to make sure that Max is okay before he goes off looking for her step brother.

Billy’s outside, smoking, when Steve finds him. Steve hunches into his jacket, not that it provides any warmth against the biting cold breeze. Billy’s sitting on the back steps. Steve drops down next to him. It’s a tight fit with both of them on the same step, bodies pressed together but neither of them seem to mind. Billy radiates with heat. Steve would be lying if he says he didn’t lean into him, just a little bit.

“Is Max okay?” Steve asks.

“She’ll be fine. She’s just pissed off,” Billy says bluntly. “Not that I blame her.”

Steve hums, mulling over El reaction. He can’t answer Billy’s unspoken question of why she blew Max off.

“I’m sorry.”

Billy looks at him at the sudden apology, eyes questioning, “What for?”

“I – it’s my fault, that you’re here,” Steve says, hand coming up to nervously run through his hair but he stops short. “If I hadn’t told them to tell you…”

Steve trails off. It’s only now that he realises how guilty he feels over this. He hadn’t meant for this to happen, for anyone else to be dragged into this, not really. But here he is, Billy pressed beside him on the step and Steve’s already too far gone to turn back now.

“I didn’t even give you a choice. Max could’ve been hurt – you could’ve died in the junkyard and who knows what could’ve happened tonig–“  
  
Billy cuts him off, “You’re rambling, sweetheart.”

Steve’s breaths catches.

“Besides,” Billy continues, oblivious. “You were there. I would’ve been fine.”

Oh.                                                               

They sit in silence. Smoke drifts around them, Billy’s cigarette almost down to its filter. Steve gazes into the backyard. It’s not the first time Steve’s turned speechless at Billy’s words. He has that kind of effect. Steve’s thoughts drift, turning down into dangerous territory, reading too much into Billy’s natural charm. 

It’s not the first time Billy’s done this – _this_ as in his uncanny ability to make Steve’s knees go weak. They’ve come to an unanimous understanding; they’re both walking the tightrope between friends and something more. Or at least Steve thinks so. It’s not like either of them have said anything out loud. Because that would mean putting words to how he feels about Billy and really, that would mean admitting that he’s still conflicted. Torn between whatever he’s feeling for Billy and lingering fondness for Nancy. His first _real_ love, the one that people say he’ll never forget.

Steve wishes he could, all things considered.

Steve hugs his arms into his chest as much as he can in their limited shared space. An elbow makes its way into Billy’s side in his nervous shuffle. Why Steve thought it was a good idea to share the same fucking step he doesn’t know, but Billy’s still warm and Steve hates the cold.

Minutes pass in companiable silence. Night has long since creeped in; Hawkins is pitch black, the Byers’ backyard desolate save for the shed in the corner. Somebody slams a door inside. Steve wonders what they’ll do if anyone comes out here, finds them tucked together on the porch steps. Steve’s all but resting his head against Billy’s shoulder. Billy’s twisted slightly to give him more room, arm coming up to rest against the step above them and across Steve’s back.

It’s cold and quiet and Billy asks him, “What happened to El?”

Steve tells him. Each word spilling the terrible truth and dragging Billy further into it all. Her story is split into two parts when Steve tells it. _Eleven_ is the strange little girl who turned up out of nowhere, shrouded in mystery from her origins to her shaved head. _El_ , however, is their friend; powerful in her own right. They know her story, and Steve’s skin crawls as he stumbles over _Papa_.

After Steve finishes speaking, Billy turns stoic and cold. It’s unlike anything that he’s used to. Steve knows Billy as fire, smouldering anger and electric energy ready to burst at any moment. But now Billy just sits there, staring into the backyard. Steve nearly misses how his jaw clenches, like Billy’s holding himself back. Icy blue eyes shift to meet his, and Steve almost recoils from the anger burning in them.

“If anyone touches her,” Billy says, voice soft but hard and resonating with promise. “I’ll kill them.”  
  
It’s only then that it clicks for Steve, that him and El are something like kindred souls.

Billy’s still looking at him, and Steve wonders what’s going through his brain. How angry is Billy, really, at what he’s just learned? Does he get the same gut-wrenching twist that Steve gets every time someone mentions what El went through in the lab? His is mad at Steve for lying, this entire time? Maybe he is, because Steve’s looking at him and the look on Billy’s face reads like hatred.

Steve hears someone cough. It’s a harsh but needed reminder that they aren’t alone. He shifts on the step, drawing away from Billy’s side.

“We should probably go back in,” Steve murmurs.

He hears Billy sigh, but the other boy doesn’t say anything.

They stand and head inside. The first thing Steve notices is that both Max and Lucas are no longer in the hallway.

They both stop just before light cuts across the darkness of the hallway. Billy’s in front of him. He shifts slightly, turning back towards Steve. Something softens, when Billy’s eyes meet his; the night catching up to them both, or maybe it’s something else. Whatever it is, Steve would give anything if it means he can see Billy blink slowly back at him again, hair catching the light, reaching out towards him.

Billy walks forward. Steve follows.

Steve wonders if their fingers really did tangle together, if they both lingered in letting go, or if he imagined the entire thing.

Somehow it still feels like forgiveness.

Steve lost track of time somewhere between walking along the railway and jumping into Hopper’s truck. It’s late, he knows that much. He doesn’t realise how late until his eyes glance up the clock.

It’s midnight.

Which means all of them are going to be in trouble. Hopefully the kids can somehow pass it over as a last-minute sleepover. Or Steve is never going to babysit them ever again.

Max, Lucas, and Dustin are all piled into a massive armchair, fast asleep. Mike and El are curled together off to the side. At least some of them are getting sleep tonight. Steve can already tell that he won’t.

In the kitchen around the table are the rest of the gang. Billy drifts off somewhere as Steve sits. Joyce is across from him, hands around a mug and blanket around her shoulders. Jonathan and Nancy are next, Steve resolutely avoiding eye contact. Hopper is on the other side of Joyce, similarly sipping at coffee. Steve slumps into his chair, weight of tonight’s events bearing down on him.

Billy returns. He leans against Steve’s chair rather than sitting down. Steve’s not really paying attention – he’s too tired, too exhausted and all he wants to do is sleep so he misses it when Billy sets a cup of coffee down on the table. Steve tips his head back, resting against the hard wood of the chair, far too close to Billy’s hip, but Steve really couldn’t give a fuck right now how the others interpret it. Billy nudges him, hand pointing at the mug.

“Thanks,” he says quietly, hand reaching for it, surprised that Billy remembers exactly how he takes it.

Quiet conversation fills the kitchen, the others talking amongst themselves. Steve flicks his eyes back up towards Billy. The other boy is looking at Hopper and Steve hopes to God that he doesn’t start, that there isn’t a repeat of earlier.

“So, what happens now?” Billy asks, voice cutting off everyone else.

All eyes turn towards Billy. Steve sees Nancy bristle in her seat, as if offended by Billy’s question, like he doesn’t have the right to ask.

“We wait, rest up,” Hopper says, looking at Joyce, who hasn’t said a word since they stepped into the kitchen.

“That’s a good idea,” Jonathan says.

Nancy nods her agreement.

Even though the angle is awkward – Billy standing and Steve sitting, Steve can still see the way Billy raises an eyebrow. Despite his questioning look, Billy doesn’t say anything, just sips at his drink.

Steve’s sorely tempted to heave a sigh of relief.

* * *

In the morning, the Byers’ house is a flurry of activity. It’s like everyone’s just realised that last night was as fucked up as it seemed to be, and that the kids haven’t been home in over twenty-four hours. At least Billy only has to worry about getting Max out of trouble; it’s not like his dad really cares where he’s been, after all, and he doesn’t have to worry about the others. Poor Steve.

Speaking of, Billy’s eyes drift to the boy. Neither of them got much sleep at all last night. By the bag under Steve’s eyes, Billy’s willing to bet that he didn’t get any at all. It’s not that suprising – there’s quite literally no room in the house. Not with two adults, four teenagers, and a handful of children who passed out all over the lounge room. The place is cramped, to say the least. Billy was up half the night buzzed by the coffee he had and mind running over what Steve told him about El.

The first thing he thinks is fuck ever calling her Eleven. She isn’t a number. No one ever deserves that kind of treatment, especially not a little girl. He could tell from the moment she walked in that she’s important. But Billy didn’t think that whatever it was they were hiding from him was this. That their own fucking government conducted human experiments. That a thirteen-year-old girl might be the only thing that can turn the tide in their favour.

It’s all kinds of fucked up that Billy doesn’t want to think about.

In the morning, things are also calmer. Billy introduces himself to Mrs Byers, who says in a gentle voice, _but_ _call me Joyce_ as she prepares breakfast. It’s nothing over the top, cereal for the kids and toast for the teenagers. But it’s more than what Billy is used to, this kind of caring. Over breakfast they decide that Hopper will drive them back to the junkyard so Steve and Billy can get their cars. Billy isn’t looking forward to that trip, but it beats having Jonathan give them a lift.

He’s waiting outside for Hopper and Steve when El turns up.

“Hello,” she says, staring at Billy.

“Hi.”

“You are Billy.”  
  
Billy wants to reply _unfortunately_ , but he gets the feeling that’ll fall flat.

“And you’re El,” he says instead, and she perks up, noticing the distinct lack of Eleven.

“Mike told me about you.”  
  
_That_ really couldn’t have been anything good, then. Billy can only begin to imagine what Mike said. It would’ve been all bad – from his relationship with Max to beating up Steve. God forbid he’s heard about how Billy flirted with his mother.

“Pretty boy over there told me about you,” Billy nods his head towards Steve, who stands next to Hopper on the porch.

El swivels around to glance back at them. She waves at Hopper, who gives Steve one last look before they’re both walking towards them.

“Are you coming with us?” Eleven asks him just as Hopper and Steve reach them.

“No, he isn’t, kid,” Hopper answers, ruffling her hair. “We’re dropping him and Steve off.”

Hopper walks towards his truck. El mumbles _pretty boy_ under her breath before she follows him. Steve looks up sharply, face panicked before his eyes narrow on Billy.

The _look_ on Steve’s face has Billy laughing with his head thrown back.

“Really, Billy?” Steve whispers to him when Hopper turns around to look at them.

“What?”

“Did you really have to call me pretty boy? Right in front of El?”

There’s something in that sentence that has Billy turning to face Steve completely. It could be the way Steve said it – the casual assumption, the exasperation like it’s a normal occurrence, or the way Steve doesn’t resist it. Or maybe it’s the fact that Billy said it in front of El, or the fact that it started as an insult before he morphed it into an endearment. Whatever it is causes a visceral reaction, heat pooling in his stomach and fingers tingling and he wants to ask – needs to know –

“I can stop, if you want?”

There’s a beat of charged silence between them.

“Oh – no, I didn’t mean it like that, Billy,” Steve says, still whispering even though Hopper and El have both gotten into the truck. “It’s fine, I don’t mind it, really, I –“

“Can you two hurry it up?” Hopper yells.

Steve blushes, ducking his head. Billy desperately wants to know what else Steve was going to say. Steve doesn’t look at him when they climb into the back of the truck. Billy notices El looking at them, her face quizzical but Hopper says something, her attention drawn away.

When they reach the junkyard, after a predictably awkward car ride, El rushes to his car like it’s the best thing she’s ever seen. The Camaro does look good, navy blue gleaming in the sunlight. Billy had spent nearly three hours cleaning her the other day. It was an attempt to avoid Neil and, well, it’s not like Billy’s just going to let his car rot. At least someone is admiring his work. Even if he hadn’t pegged El as being into cars.  

She turns to Hopper, “Drive?”

It takes a moment for Billy to realise what El means.

“No,” both Steve and Hopper say at the exact same time.

Billy isn’t surprised. The sadness that crosses El’s face definitely shocks all three of them.

“You like fast cars, huh, squirt?” Billy asks.

El nods, excitedly. Billy hears Steve huff.

“Maybe some other day, okay?” 

“Yeah, kid,” Hopper says, because El’s got him wrapped around his finger. “One day when Billy doesn’t have to take Max home, alright?”

El turns to him, wide eyes and innocent smile, "Do you promise?" 

Hopper stares at him, and Billy knows he’s in for a world of trouble.

"I'll even pinky swear." 

She looks at him confused, and Billy wonders if those fucking monsters in the lab ever let her socialise with other kids. 

"Like this," Billy holds out his hand, El hooks her pinky around his and they shake on it. 

Hopper and El leave soon after that. Billy watches them go, leaning against his car. He looks over to Steve, question on the tip of his tongue, but Steve’s already climbing into the Beamer.

Billy sighs. So much for talking to Steve, alone, where no one can overhear them.

He climbs into his car, gunning the engine and speeding back to the Byers to get Max home.

* * *

Days turn into weeks. Thanksgiving blurs pass and then suddenly it’s December.

Life has been… boring since that night at the lab. Steve doesn’t quite know what to make of it. It’s been filled with the monotony of school, driving the kids to the arcade, and Hopper avoiding them. All of it’s starting to get on his nerves.

He’s done a lot of thinking lately. Thinking about a lot of everything, really.

But mainly he’s been thinking about Billy.

Steve replays everything over in his head. From the night Billy turned up bloody and battered at his front door to promising to protect Eleven. Steve had thought Billy was nearly out of surprises, but apparently not. Not that Steve’s complaining. He isn’t used to this; this back and forth that’s somehow been established between them. Steve’s so used to people taking or giving, never both, and Billy gives as good as he gets. For every piece Steve shares of himself, so does Billy. It’s not always explicit but it’s there, more than Steve ever could have asked for.

Steve thinks about that night, at Hawkins lab. Everyone heard in the following days about Bob, what happened in the demodogs. It answered the question of where they went, that night in the junkyard where they all nearly died. But even then it just brings up more questions – like why did the demodogs wait so long to attack the building? What’s inside the lab that they so desperately want?

Steve’s never actually been inside – the lab’s always been something that’s loomed over the horizon, something separate from what’s happening in Hawkins. Of course, he knows how intricately tied it is to the Upside Down, but before now Steve hadn’t really considered the building to be a threat.

Naivety, he supposes in a moment of self-reflection, has always been a constant companion.

Steve doesn’t know enough to speculate what could happen in the future. Not with the lab, not what will happen to Will, can’t anticipate what Eleven may do, or what Hopper has planned. Doesn’t even want to think about the fluctuating relationship he has with Billy.

Even with that being said, Steve’s thoughts continually drift to him. Billy’s somehow become a beacon, despite their rocky start and Steve’s grateful for it. Maybe he was right, so many months ago, when he told himself that he only dragged Billy into this because he wanted someone to talk to. It’s not like he could’ve predicted what would happen between them.

All the late night, early morning conversations. The ease that Steve feels around him. Billy remembering how Steve takes his coffee. Billy listening, that afternoon at home when Steve nearly choked on his tears telling him about Barb. The fucking petnames that play havoc with his mind. Watching Billy with the kids, seeing how protective he’s become of kids, that moment with Hopper.

And Steve wouldn’t give anything to change it.

But he’s sick of waiting on this knife’s edge of will they, won’t they.

He’s half tempted just to give in, give up, and do something, anything, to tip them over into the point of no return.  

* * *

Everything goes to hell for Billy two weeks before Christmas on a sunny Wednesday afternoon.

He’d ditched his last class in favour of going for a drive. It was like a weight off his chest, getting out of Hawkins, however briefly. He hadn’t gone far. But far enough to speed pass the _now_   _leaving Hawkins_ sign with a sigh of relief. The Camaro all but purrs as he drives along, radio blasting, and for a moment it’s like he’s back home in Cali, all free spirited and alive. But then he has to drive back, and reality comes crashing down.

He’s climbing out of his car when he notices the Beamer parked on the other side of the road.

What the fuck. _Why_ the fuck.

What makes matters worse is that he can’t see Steve anywhere.

Stepping into the house honestly makes him feel sick.

He hadn’t been expecting his father to be home. Which seems to be the root of all Neil-related events lately. There’s no car in the driveway, nothing to indicate that Neil is here, and yet.

There he is. With Steve. Sitting at the kitchen table with Max between them.

Billy’s eyes flicker back and forth between the three of them and he realises that he fucking forgot to pick Max up.

He comes to an abrupt stop just before his dad’s line of sight. But it’s pointless, because Max sees him and shakes her head. Whether it’s a warning to get out or get it over with he can’t tell.

He enters the room.

“Have a seat, son.” Neil tells him, and it’s the last thing he wants to do.  

But he does, sitting next to Steve and across from his father. He refuses to look at Steve, instead staring at Neil’s hand’s clasped together the table top.

“Where have you been?” Neil sounds oddly calm. Maybe it’s because Steve’s here – or because Max is looking apprehensive – or maybe Neil isn’t as angry as Billy thinks he is.

He hesitates in answering, and Neil slams a hand palm down on the table. Max and Steve jerk backwards, but Billy barely blinks. 

“It’s my fault, sir,” Max says, and the way she trips over _sir_ has Billy swallowing hard, looking over at her and reading the contempt in her face.

“Don’t lie for him, Maxine.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Billy says, drawing Neil’s attention back to him. “I lost track of time and Steve offered to drop Max home.”

Billy hopes to God that Neil doesn’t notice the evasion. Steve nods, but he doesn’t say anything, and Billy could almost kiss him for that. The last thing he needs is Harrington opening his mouth in front of his father and saying who knows what.

“So I understand, but Billy, Max is your responsibility.”

“I know that, but like I said, I lost track of t –“ 

“Of time, yes, but you don’t have basketball practice on today, nor am I aware of any other extracurricular activities you’re involved in. Where were you?”

Billy lifts his head to stare Neil in the eye. There’s anger burning in them, and Billy’s going to make the wrong choice, because _fuck this_.

“It’s none of your business,” Billy states, let’s a moment rest between that and says with unbridled sarcasm, “Sir.”

And it’s like the flood gates breaking, Neil lashing out at him from across the table. He barely misses. From the corner of his eye he sees Steve recoil beside him. In the next moment, Billy stands. Father and son stare at each other, and then Billy dodges backwards into the lounge room.

“How dare you,” Neil hisses as he jerks Billy backwards by his shirt, twisting him, but Billy manages to break his hold.

Billy backs up so they stand across the room from each, bookcase behind him.

“I put a roof over your head and this is how you treat me?”

He’s so fucking over Neil’s rhetoric. Day in, day out, it’s always the same and Billy wants it to _end_.

"You let your sister come home with a stranger, you neglect your responsibilities,” Neil’s voice is rising. “Can you ever do anything right, Billy, or are you going to be a fuck up for the rest of your life?” 

He stares Neil down, but can't reply. It's not like he's _wrong_. 

Billy feels the hot rush of anger that chases its way up his spine, and he’s sure Steve notices the way his jaw clenches as fear settles deep in his chest. All faux bravado for Max, who stands behind Steve in the doorway. And _God_ , hasn’t that been a theme.

Since that night, since Billy has been made a reluctant member of the Party, as the kids are wont to call it, Billy has noticed two distinct things; that he and Max are closer than they’ve ever been, and that Steve fucking Harrington is on his mind _all the damn time_.

Yeah, it had taken Max nearly caving his head in with a nail filled baseball bat for them to get along, but it’s been worth it. Billy had been – and still is – impressed with the sheer guts that Max has. God knows his kid step-sister is a lot braver, so much more fearless, than he is. Billy knows that one day, her bravery is going to bite her in the ass, and he’s going to do whatever it takes to protect her. His asshole father hasn’t laid a hand on Max yet, but Billy has lived with the man his entire life. Max and Susan have only been around for a year. 

The situation with Steve has Billy all kinds of fucked up. Billy is not so naïve that lying to himself about his attraction to the older boy would do him any good. The feeling has been there since day fucking one, when Billy learned of _King_ _Steve_. Steve, with his wild hair, brown doe eyes, sarcastic humour, and his preppy fashion sense, is exactly his type. Not to mention the mother-hen streak a mile wide, which Billy finds both endearing and ultimately disgusting because, well, children. Hell, Billy even crawled to his place the last time Neil had smashed a glass over his head. They’ve been subtly flirting for weeks on end now, and Billy craves the way Steve flushes at the endearments that drop from his mouth, the casual touches, and Billy hopes to God he hasn’t misinterpreted their entire relationship.

Billy zones back into whatever his father is yelling, catches the tail end of it, “…and you’ll end up just like Veronica. A pathetic deadbeat.”

People seem to think that only his dad is an abusive piece of shit, but Billy’s secret is that his mother was too. Where Neil is too many kinds of angry, all consuming fire, yelling and shouting and kicking and bashing, Veronica was the exact opposite. Cold as ice, her blue-grey eyes never once warm with love, harsh and biting words that always cut to the bone and froze the blood in his veins. It’s been nearly seven years to the day his ma had packed up and fucked off back to Australia. Billy cannot help but wonder, some days, if he got the lesser of two evils, even now as Neil shoves him back into the bookcase.

“You better be fucking listening to me when I speak, Billy.” His father growls.

“Yes, sir.” He says on reflex.

From the corner of his eye, Billy sees Steve take a step forward, only for Max to hold him back. Warmth floods his stomach at that – the implication that Steve would interfere. But thank God he doesn’t, because the next thought that crosses his mind is that if Neil ever lays a hand on Steve, Billy would end up in jail for murder.

Billy’s head is titled back, pressed uncomfortably against the shelf. Neil’s hands are twisted around his shirt to hold him in place. Billy is expecting something more to happen, anything other than the brutal push he gets, books falling around his head as the bookcase rocks into the wall with his weight. Billy clutches at the shelves, tries to stay balanced, but Neil shoved him hard enough that his equilibrium is shot. Billy slides down, awkwardly propping himself against the bookcase, half on the shelf and half on the floor. Neil stands above him.

His father looks down at him, sneer on his face, “Get out of my house.”

He scrambles up in a heartbeat, dodging around his dad and swipes his keys off the table, swings back around to grab Steve by the arm and drag him outside. He’s half expecting Steve to stop, confront his father, because that’s something Harrington would do, but the older boy follows him through the door.

Billy trips down the stairs, turns around in the same motion to shove the Camaro’s keys into Steve’s hand. His are shaking, and there’s no way in hell he’s going to drive. His stomach is a knot, so tangled that Billy feels nauseous. There’s not enough air in his lungs. Invisible pressure weighs down on his chest. Billy collapses into the passenger seat, glances back at the house. He can see Max looking out her window, and Billy regrets leaving her there, but the anxiety attack he feels creeping in on him isn’t something he wants her to see.

“Steve,” he says, fighting back tears, and that’s all Harrington needs to twist the key in the ignition and drive the car the hell out of there.

* * *

They end up in the quarry.

It’s quiet, almost serene, up on the cliff in the late afternoon sun. Steve leaves the engine idling long enough to roll the windows down. The drive has calmed Billy down, somewhat, Steve notices, in the way his head his tipped back against the seat.

As the pair sit in silence, Steve thinks about what just happened. The entire fight between Billy and his father hadn’t made sense. Well – it did, it just was so left field that Steve is confused. He wants to ask Billy about it, but doesn’t want to push him. Steve knows by now that if Billy wants to talk, he’ll talk. He plays the scene over in his head, remembers with perfect clarity when Billy’s dad had pushed him into the bookcase, and the fear the Steve had felt when he thought the entire thing would topple over and crush him. The look on Max’s face when he went to take a step forward is seared into Steve’s mind; a cocktail of horror, sadness, fear, and – that which hurts Steve the most – expectedness. Of course, Steve had known how violent Neil was, but seeing more than just the aftermath is jarring.

Billy tips his head towards Steve, breaks the silence, “You have any smokes on you, princess?”

Steve blinks at him, like Billy doesn’t know that Steve always has a packet of Marlboro Reds in his jacket pocket. He fishes them out, lights one up, and takes a drag before passing it to Billy.

Billy holds the smoke in his lungs forever and an age. His eyes are closed and to Steve, he looks so goddamn broken his heart aches.

“I’m sure you’re wondering what that was all about.” Billy states more so than asks.

“Billy, you don’t…” Steve trails off, emotion choking his throat, “You don’t have to tell me what happened.”

Billy’s eyes open and they stare at each other, hazy cigarette smoke floating in the air. The sun is setting and it lights up the car. Steve breaks the eye contact to drink in the sight of Billy. All round heartthrob, Steve thinks, with his tan skin and blonde hair turned golden in the sunlight. Steve grabs the cigarette off him and pulls a heady lung full.

“My mother left when I was 10.”  
  
Steve wants to say _I’m sorry, I am so fucking sorry for this hand you’ve been dealt in life_ , but something in Billy’s tone stops him.

“She was a cold hearted bitch, Steve, and if I had ended up with her, I’d be dead.”

Steve’s breath catches in his throat. Billy burns the cigarette down to the filter.

“Her and Dad met the year before I was born. They got on like a house on fire. They never wanted children.” Billy looks down, and Steve notices his hands are shaking again.

“But then they had me, and, well, that meant they had to settle down. Things were okay, when I was little. But then I started school and Dad started getting so angry about his job and instead of touching Ma, he hit me.”  
  
Steve hates how clinical Billy sounds, as if he isn’t even talking about himself. Tears are welling up in his eyes. Steve wants to reach over, tangle his fingers between Billy’s, and offer him some kind of comfort.

Instead, Steve lights another cigarette.

“It all went downhill from there. They fell apart and four years later instead of trying she just fucking gave up. She just bloody fucking gave up.” Billy thumps his head into the back of the headrest. “I got home from school one day, and the house was empty. Dad had fucked off God knows where. There was a note, in the kitchen. All it said was ‘I’ve gone back to Australia,’ and that was that. And then Dad says I’ll end up just like her and do you know what, Steve? I fucking believe him.”

Billy lets out a harsh, barking laugh. He curls a hand into a first and scrubs at his eyes, blinks back the tears. But it’s of no use, sobs wrack his body, his chest heaving. Steve wants to reach out so badly, his heart breaking for Billy. Steve watches him, can’t even begin to believe how fucked up Billy’s life has been. Billy hadn’t even gone into detail. It’s the fact that he’d said _I’d be dead_ that has Steve convinced that whatever Neil dishes out would be nothing compared to what his mother would have done.

And then Billy’s climbing out of the Camaro, slamming the door shut, shaking the frame. Steve’s heart nearly stops when Billy stands at the edge of the cliff. He doesn’t even process getting out of the car, afraid of what Billy will do, because _fuck_ , Steve can’t lose him now. Not to the water because Steve’s already tormented by his pool, he can’t deal with a fucking _lake_. Steve hasn’t even stepped away from the car before Billy turns back around. He lets out a sigh of relief, and sits on the hood. Billy joins him, and they continue to pass the cigarette until that one, too, is burnt to the filter. Billy stands, crushes the butt underneath his heel, and climbs back up onto the Camaro, laying down, hands beneath his head and staring at the sky. It’s dusk now. The pink sunset casts a soft glow across everything. Steve can’t help thinking that Billy looks gorgeous like this. Seemingly asleep on the top of his car, mellowed, soaking up the last few rays of light.

“What’re you looking at, Harrington?” Billy says a few minutes later, voice deep and raspy, eyes barely open.

Steve thinks about brushing it off – Billy said it low enough that Steve could pretend he didn’t hear him. But he thinks about all the flirting. _Billy_ _chasing him_ , rather than the other way around. Knows that they’ve grown closer, reflects on what they’ve gone through in the past few months. Billy taking this entire manic government conspiracy in his stride. The fact he’s here with Billy now isn’t lost on him. Steve thinks that he should’ve recognised that feeling of an oncoming storm long ago.

So, he replies softly, “Just you, Hargrove.”

Steve nearly misses that quick curl of Billy’s lip, but he doesn’t, and his heart thumps in his chest. Billy sits up and now they’re eye level. Steve's vaguely aware that Billy’s hand is placed on the car somewhere behind his back as the boy turns his entire body to face Steve.

Billy hums, tilts his head to the side, “Just me?”  
  
Steve doesn’t say anything.   
  
Billy seems infinitely closer now, so much so that Steve can see the slight crookedness of Billy’s nose, the light dusting of freckles across his face from the California sun.

“Do you like what you see, sugar?”

Oh – that’s a new one. Steve has become so comfortable with princess, pretty boy, even gotten used to the occasional sweetheart, that he nearly misses the low murmur of _sugar._

“Billy…” Steve says, because this isn’t the fucking time for joking, with his heart hammering in his chest and Billy’s blue eyes sparking in the soft light of dusk.

Billy laughs quietly, leaning ever so closer, and it’s then that Steve realises that he isn’t joking.

Billy kisses him.

It’s so tender that Steve nearly forgets that he should kiss back. 

Billy taste like tobacco and smells like smoke and his too strong cologne that Steve fucking hates. But the kiss is perfect. Steve's dimly aware that one of Billy’s hands is now tenderly cupping his jaw, thumb pressing near the corner of his mouth. Steve tilts his head, changing the angle and deepening the kiss. One of them moans, and honestly, Steve can’t even tell who, as it vibrates through both of them. 

They pull back slightly, breathing in each other. Billy’s other arm is still behind him, and Steve goes to lean into it but Billy is grabbing his face with both of his hands, swings a leg over Steve and kneels on the hood of his car. Steve looks up at him, and Billy smiles, bright and uninhibited, as he settles into Steve’s lap. Billy ducks his head down, pressing another slow kiss to Steve’s mouth. This time when Billy draws back, Steve follows him, and Billy laughs into his mouth as they kiss. It’s the most beautiful thing Steve has ever heard.

The sunset turns the sky orange and pink as they trade kisses. It’s nothing urgent; all slow and soft and tender and _dear_ _God_ , if Steve hadn’t already fallen for Billy – somewhere in between that night Billy turned up at his house bruised and bloody, to him meeting El for the first time and being so kind to her – this would’ve been it.

It’s cold and dark, after they’ve each drunk their fill of the other, and Steve says so.

"C'mon, we should go, then," Billy says even as he leans back down to rest his forehead against Steve's.   
  
"You okay?" 

Billy pulls back to look at him, face lighting with a gentle smile, "Definitely." 

Somehow it's an effortless shift between them; this falling over the edge into the unknown. There's no awkwardness, nothing that tells Steve this is wrong. He's eager for more. Could stay on the hood of the Camaro all day, Billy's weight grounding against him. 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Billy says, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth before ducking into the driver’s seat and cranking the heat up.

Steve slides into the passenger seat, presses his fingers to the air vent. He looks back over at Billy and thinks he wouldn't change anything for this.

_  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> helloooo hope u enjoyed that :)) the next few updates might be slow in coming; life is kicking me in the ass and i need a moment.


	6. it leads you in time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just bear in mind that i told yall itd be a fucked up timeline

When Steve trudges down the staircase Thursday morning, he’s greeted with the sight of his parents in the kitchen. His dad is reading the newspaper; so is his mom, reading over his shoulder with a cup of coffee in her hands.

Weird, they hadn’t been in when he’d gotten home yesterday.

 _Yesterday_. Steve still can’t believe what happened. All of it – driving Max home after school because of Billy’s no show, meeting Neil Hargrove. That had certainly been interesting. Max had warned him on the drive over that Neil was a hardass. He didn’t mention that he already knew first hand. They’d arrived just after four, and Max had looked shocked when her step dad appeared at the front door to greet them. Being all but forced into coming inside had been even more shocking. Neil hadn’t been rude; he’d been so polite that if Steve hadn’t known his true colours he wouldn’t have suspected a thing.

And then Billy had shown up and it had all turned to shit.

Well, not all of it.

Yesterday afternoon at the quarry plays on repeat his mind. Billy resplendent underneath the winter sun on the hood of the car, that first gentle press of his lips. Thinking about Billy’s voice rasp _sugar_ sends the faintest shiver down his spine. Wondering, waiting, on what happens next has him restless.

His mom glances up as he enters the kitchen, “Good morning, sweetie.”

It’s odd, having them both here in the morning. Usually it’s only one of them or neither of them at all. Steve isn’t necessarily angry about it; once upon a time he craved their attention desperately. Now, he’s used to the silence of the house and the malevolent feel of the pool in the back of his mind.

He eats breakfast in relative silence, doesn’t really talk because that’s how it’s always been. _Only speak when spoken to, Steve_ , his father used to say. It’s not awkward but now, after everything that’s happened, Steve wishes they’d realise he’s changed.

At one point his dad asks how school is. It’s a loaded question. His parents are well aware that he isn’t the most studious. They still think he’s applying to college and Steve doesn’t know how to tell them any different. Doesn’t know how to say that he’s lost all his interest in his education, in basketball. Can’t tell them about the Upside Down and how it’s been fucking with him for nearly a year.

Steve leaves without fanfare. A simple _goodbye, sir_ to his dad and a kiss of the cheek for his mom. It’s almost sickening, the normalcy of it all.

Once he gets to school, Steve doesn’t hesitate to park next to the Camaro. He doesn’t want to think about a few months ago when all he did was avoid this particular spot. Anticipation curls in his gut as he walks towards the building. It’s an unexpected feeling. In hindsight, all his feelings lately have been unexpected.

The first glimpse he gets of Billy that day is halfway through lunch. Steve hadn’t noticed that Billy was already in the cafeteria, which is odd in itself, because the blonde is usually eye-catchingly loud. Naturally, when Steve first sees him across the room, it’s because Billy has slammed his hands on the table.

The cafeteria goes instantly quiet.

From this angle Billy looks downright furious. Steve wonders what set him off. Steve leans around and realises it’s Tommy and Carol that Billy’s sitting with. There’s a tense moment when the room is dead silent. Billy speaks, quiet enough that Steve is sure that no one else heard.

Tommy must say something in reply, because Billy reaches across the table and yanks the other boy forward.

Somehow it doesn’t surprise Steve. Tommy always did run his mouth.

There’s more whispered argument between the three before Billy’s roughly pushing Tommy away and storming out of the room.

Steve doesn’t have to think twice before following him out of the cafeteria.

He jogs up behind Billy, who makes his way towards the parking lot, and places a hand on his arm.

Bad idea.

Billy swings around, arm moving harshly to dislodge Steve’s hand. He’s pushed into a brick wall. That night in the Byers kitchen, crowded against the fridge flashes through his mind.

Steve doesn’t move. He stares at Billy, his incredibly blue eyes filled with anger. Then it’s like Billy realises who’s in front of him and they shutter. Something like relief flooding through his posture as he relaxes his grip on Steve’s shirt. He doesn’t let go, not entirely. Steve’s somehow comforted by that.

“Hey, Billy,” Steve says quietly.

Billy blinks slowly. Steve watches as he shuts his eyes and breathes in deeply. Across Billy’s jaw blooms a bruise that he knows Neil hadn’t done yesterday before the quarry. What the hell happened when Billy returned home?

“Christ, Harrington.”

“You okay?”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Billy replies, defeated. “No.”  

Billy shifts backwards, drawing away from Steve almost reluctantly. His eyes dart down either side of the hall before he’s tugging at Steve’s hand. Billy drags him out to the Camaro, barely noticing the Beamer as he slides into his own car.

It’s weird, how the Camaro’s becoming some kind of focal point in their relationship.

Steve drops into the passenger seat. He’s half expecting for Billy to tear out of the parking lot, but instead they just sit there in silence, Billy staring out the window and Steve staring at him. In the distance the bell for class rings. When Billy doesn’t make an effort to get up and leave, Steve sighs. He hadn’t planned on skipping class today.

“What happened?” He finally asks.

Except Billy doesn’t reply, instead just looks at him with an expression that Steve can’t place.

“Billy,” Steve says, catching his eye. “What happened?”

“What did it look like?”

Steve can’t help but hate Billy’s violent mood swings, because he’s not going to get an answer out of him any time soon. The boy who looked on the edge of a breakdown in the hallway, head pressed to Steve’s chest, is no where to be.

Steve knows it’s a rhetorical question, but he can’t help snarking back, “Oh, just you and Tommy being good old friends.”

Behind the anger in Billy’s eyes there’s almost amusement.

“What’d he do?”

Billy rolls his eyes like Steve’s said something stupid, “Clearly Tommy said something I disagreed with.”

“I figured that, smart ass,” Steve’s own temper sparking. “Why are you in such a shit mood, now?”

The look Billy gives him is sharp. 

“What do you think he said?”  
  
Steve doesn’t want to do this, doesn’t want to get into a fight right after their night in the quarry. It’d be like taking one step forward and two giant leaps back.

“I’m not doing this, Billy,” he says, gesturing between the two of them. “I’m not here for you yell at just because some asshole pisses you off.”

“Fine, then.”  
  
“Fine, then?” Steve parrots back, because that was the last thing he’d expect Billy to say. “ _You_ drag me out here and then refuse to talk?”  
  
Strained silence settles between them. Billy breaks eye contact, and Steve wonders if he’s thinking the same; they’ve come so far and now this wall of Billy’s obstinacy and Steve’s persistence is building between them.

“Tommy doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up,” Billy says, quietly, like he’s offering an apology. “You should know that.”

Steve huffs a laugh, “Should I leave it?”

Billy glances up at him, an understanding passing between them, “Please.”

* * *

Earlier that week, Dustin had asked for a lift to the Byers, something about a sleepover. And so, Steve had driven over to drop Dustin off. He definitely hadn’t expected on being invited inside. Joyce had opened the door, and it’s not like Steve could say no. He would have though, had he realised that both Nancy and Johnathan were also there. 

Steve had walked in behind Joyce, and at first hadn’t noticed them both sitting close together at the kitchen table.

“Hi, Steve,” Nancy had said, still somehow nice despite everything.

“Hey, guys,” he’d replied.

It was awkward from the moment he sat down. Joyce had tried to ease the silence between the four of them, asking about school, how was his senior year going? To which he replied, _oh, you know, it’s going._

He wasn’t even remotely surprised when the rumble of the Camaro had filled the air. He knew it was going to turn into an impromptu meeting. Because if Max is here, the Hopper won’t be too far behind with El.

He’d been dreading it, truth be told. But putting off dealing with the Upside Down wasn't going to do them any favours.

* * *

Steve was right.

Now around the table all of them stand. The kids are clustered at one end, Hopper and Joyce at the other, and Billy and him across from Nancy and Jonathan in the middle.

The realisation that they’re going to interrogate Will hits Steve like a tonne of bricks. Hopper hasn’t said it aloud yet, but he glances between Eleven and Joyce with increasing frequency that has Steve on edge.

God, he’s just a kid.

Steve phases out, one ear listening to the conversation, but all his focus has shifted. World tipped, tilted, more off centre than it’s ever been. Maybe it’s the magnitude of it all. This _thing_ is living inside Will. The gravity of the situation doesn’t crash down on him like some sudden epiphany. It rolls through him like a tidal wave. Like everything clicks in places, finally, an acknowledgement that _wow, this shit is really, really fucked up._

El makes a vague insinuation that the monster can find out where they live. That doesn’t sit well with anybody.  It’s odd, how she words it. Steve is unused to her sudden coherence. It’s somewhat of a creepy twist to her usual bluntness.

When Hopper finally suggests that maybe they need to find a way to talk to the monster, everyone around the table protests. Except for Will, who sits there silently resigned in the face of his fate. It breaks Steve’s heart.

Nothing is discernible over their shouting.

It finally dies down, and Will says, “It’s fine. I’ll do it.”

“Oh, honey, no,” Joyce instantly replies, voice catching. “You don’t have to.”

Steve wonders if this would’ve been easier if the poor kid had been unconscious.

He speaks too soon, because the next minute Will’s eyes roll to the back of his head, his entire body slumping forward over the table.

Joyce screams.

* * *

The four teenagers end up in the shed. The air is tense. The way Billy keeps glancing at him and then flicks his eyes over to Nancy spells disaster.

They work in relative silence for the first twenty minutes. Billy and him talk quietly, making plans for the next weekend like they don’t have too much school work to do or have to worry about the aliens living in their town. Everything’s fine until Billy leaves, citing that it'd be rude to fill the shed with his cigarette smoke.

Nancy drifts over barely thirty seconds after he’s gone.

He really can’t catch a break.

Steve ignores her at first. It’s ultimately futile, and when he’s this close to snapping at her, Nancy says, “Steve, what are you doing?”

He knows what she means - it’s Billy. But he wants to be purposefully ignorant, just to see what Nancy has to say.

“What do you mean?”

Nancy looks towards the door, hesitates before replying, “Why Billy?”

Steve hums noncommittedly. It’s not like he owes her an answer. He really shouldn’t say anything, just to prove his own point. But there’s something twisting inside his chest, lodging just underneath his ribcage. A feeling that tells him maybe he does owe some kind of explanation.

“Why Jonathan?” He replies instead, fully aware that the other boy is listening in.

“We drifted,” she says in a low voice, but over her shoulder Steve can see Jonathan tense at the implication that he’s nothing more than a rebound. “He understands me better.”

That shouldn’t hurt, but it does. It stings like a bitch. They were together for over a year, suffered through the first horrors that the Upside Down threw at them. Supported each other in the aftermath. They fell in love. Or so he thought.

“I think you mean we changed.”

He doesn’t know where that came from off the moral high ground. It sounds so much better than _we drifted_. Today’s been filled with life affirming moments, so why not throw in another one. It makes sense after all. The sudden but inexplicable distance between them, festering before that party. They’d both changed and hadn’t even noticed.

“You know what, Nance? We had fun, and I’ll always cherish that, but we went through so much shit. The demogorgan, school, everything else. It changed us. And, honestly, if we hadn’t broken up I don’t think we would’ve survived this time round.” Steve takes a breath, looks her dead in the eye. “I’m glad we’ve both found people we can lean on. You and Jonathan deserve one another.”

Nancy’s jaw doesn’t drop, but it’s a near thing. Steve wonders if she takes that last comment as a compliment or as an insult. He meant it as both.

Before anything can be said, Billy reappears in the doorway. There’s something about his facial expression that makes Steve wonder if he’d overheard. It’s almost soft. An unguarded kind of look that he's certain Billy doesn't realise he's making. 

It’s gone in a flash with the next words out of Billy’s mouth, “They’re bringing down Will soon.”

“They found a way to wake him up?” Jonathan asks, the first time he’s spoken to either of them.

“Yeah. Apparently, your mom swiped some drugs from that lab?” 

* * *

Billy watches as they tie Will to the chair. It’s unsettling.

Nancy had left almost as soon as Hopper had carried the kid in, followed by Mike. Billy and Steve really shouldn’t still be here. No one’s said anything, so Billy pulls Steve over near the door. They’re out of the way, which is the main thing.

Joyce injects him with whatever the fuck and Will starts convulsing, voice distorted, a horribly grating sound that has Billy taking a step back. Jonathan looks beside himself. Billy can’t even imagine what it would be like if he was forced to watch Max like this. It’s incomprehensible.

Steve shifts next to him. Billy glances over at him. Steve flicks his eyes over at him, distraught and conflicted at the scene before him.

Steve walks out. Billy’s left to stand there, a stranger amongst everyone else. Watching this family who are forced into discerning their kid from a monster.

Jonathan and Joyce both talk to Will, speaking about found memories for the chance that they draw Will back to himself. Hearing about how happy of a childhood this kid had somehow makes everything so much worse.

Will starts tapping against the chair, even as the monster talks about destruction and their impending deaths.

When Mike scrambles for his walkie talkie, shouting about Morse code, Billy’s respect for Will ratchets up a few notches.

* * *

After all of it, they end up in Steve’s car, driving aimlessly.

Billy had left the Camaro at the Byers. Because the kids were still having a sleepover, after all. It’s not like him or Steve have anywhere in particular to be. Besides, Billy could tell that Steve was itching to leave. So when he’d said to Steve, _let’s get out of here_ , they'd all but run out of the house.

The roads are quiet. As it usually is in the middle of the night in Hawkins. This boring-but-not-so-boring town has probably never heard of weekend night life, now that he thinks about it. The only sound is Blondie playing from the radio. At least Steve’s taste in music isn’t all that horrible.  

He’s hoping that Steve doesn’t bring up what happened in the cafeteria. Billy’s honestly surprised he hasn’t already. He doesn’t want to think about the look on Steve’s face when he tells him that it was _him_ Tommy talked about. That Steve’s the reason why he was _this_ _close_ to slamming Tommy’s fucking face into the table.

Their silence speaks volumes. To what they were (bitter and stupid enemies) to what they are now (which Billy refuses to name) and what they could be (let’s not go there just yet). Yet that’s a rabbit hole Billy’s falling down fast. Looking across at Steve now, yellow overhead street lights flashing over him, it’s like looking at him for the first time again. Transcendent, almost. The cool night atmosphere, this slow drive, radio on in the background. Like something out of a movie. The Upside Down, the demodogs, everything irrelevant because of this new and tentative thing between them. 

By some unspoken agreement neither of them have mentioned what happened in the quarry. Maybe because of what ended up happening at school, and then again at the Byers. Probably. At least that what’s Billy’s telling himself. It's only been a day. 

Tomorrow. He'll figure it out tomorrow.

Steve turns into the long driveway of the Byers, half an hour after they left. Steve hasn’t said a word. Billy’s giving him space, because clearly he needed it, but he half wishes Steve would say something.

Steve cuts the engine, and finally turns towards him, “What do we do?”

“We need to close the gate.”  
  
Billy isn’t sure when he became a part of the ‘we’ in that sentence. Not even a month ago it’d you _you guys_ , or _Will said_ but definitely not  _we_. He knows it’s all his own fault. If he hadn’t pushed Steve back into the fridge – and thinking of that now causes self-hatred to burn through his veins – he probably wouldn’t even be here. Him and Steve would probably still be at each other’s throats. Max would probably hate him even more.

“But what does that mean?” Steve asks.

“I wish I knew,” Billy replies.

He surprises himself that it’s not a lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hellllooooo sorry (also sorry this is a super short chapter - you'll get why later) it's been like ten years, next update will probably be in another ten years (couple of months) because uni/life is (still) kicking my ass. thank you for reading and coming back i love you


	7. your mind, your eyes, your own

Billy’s driving Max home from the Byer’s the next day when it happens.

“I heard about what happened at school yesterday,” Max says, and Billy’s heart stops.

This could go one of two ways.

“What’d you hear, Max?”

“That you slammed Tommy H’s face into the table because he said something about Steve.”

Shit. _Shit_. His hands clench around the steering wheel, and he knows Max picks it up in the way she shifts her weight in her seat, away from him. It’s not like Billy can blame her for that. For all the ground they’ve made, self-preservation is too far ingrained in the both of them for Billy to take offense.

It’s the _because he said something about Steve_ that sets alarms ringing in Billy’s head. If Max has heard, then there’s no doubt that every single student at Hawkins’ High knows. God only knows what kind of rumours are flying around.

He exhales, fingers unclenching, “Yeah.”

Max starts. She wasn’t expecting him to actually admit it.

“It’s so fucking stupid,” Billy continues unprompted. “Just running his goddamn mouth after I told him not to.”

“What did he say?”

“Max.”  The warning is clear in his voice.

“You don’t have to tell me. It’s just, kind of weird hearing about you going off like that, now.”

Silence fills the car. Billy looks resolutely at the road. From the corner of his eye, he sees Max shift again, back to the door as she looks at him. Something settles in his chest, a sudden realisation that he has changed. From quick tempered violence to this underlying and constant sense of _dangerous_ he seems to give off. Three months ago, Billy would’ve flown off the handle. Now he sits, almost calm, wondering how this even happened.

Despite everything screaming at him not to – years of keeping anything and everything bottled up with no healthy outlet – a small part of him wants to tell her. Spill his heart out all over the dashboard. Him and Max, after everything, understand each other on a level he can’t relate to anyone else.

“He doesn’t get why I’m… friends with Steve. Called Steve useless and –“ Billy cuts himself off because while he’ll swear all he likes in front of her, but repeating the fact that Tommy called Steve a slut to Max makes revulsion turn through his gut. “And some other bullshit.”

“Then why did you break his nose?”

He looks at Max, “I didn’t break his nose. Or slam his face into a table.”

“Oh. That’s good, I guess.”

Billy snorts, “You know what, Max? I know that roughing Tommy up was stupid, but it just made me so fucking angry.”

“Why?”

“Because Steve does so much for you and your nerd friends and he’s far from _useless_. Add in that Tommy said that if I knew what was good for me I’d stop hanging around with Harrington.”

What Billy hates more than anything else is people trying to control him. Max makes a noise. She’s well acquainted with _that_ aspect of his personality. It’s half the reason why they moved here in the first place. It’s not exactly a secret, that if Billy had anywhere else to go he’d be _there_ , rather than stuck under Neil Hargrove’s iron fist.

They pull up outside their house. Neil’s truck is nowhere to be seen. A bonus, to be sure, after the night they’ve just had. Billy cuts the engine.

“Max,” he says, turning to look her in the eye. “Please, don’t tell Steve.”

There’s a second, or two, before Max replies, “Okay.”

They both get out of the car, Max running off. Billy walks, almost sedately, up the path to the house. It’s not that he’s surprised that rumours have already gotten around. It’s the kind of rumours that have him concerned. Should he go find Max and ask if she knows anything else? Or would that be too telling? Billy likes to pretend he doesn’t give fuck about his reputation – he does. He aches with it, this carefully cultivated image of bad boy and reckless flirt. It’s a wall he hides behind. For so long, he’s been nothing but rebellious. To have Max point out that it’s weird hearing about his violent nature, well. It’s poignant.

The entire thing also brings up another point; what, exactly, is Steve to Billy, and vice versa. It’s been what feels like an age since that afternoon at the quarry. Neither of them have really talked about what happened. They hint at it, dancing around each other despite the fact they’ve already kissed. It’s only been a handful of days. Anxiety somersaults in his gut over this waiting game. What is Steve thinking? Steve hadn’t said much, when Billy had driven him home from the quarry. Early night had settled him by the time they’d pulled up outside the Harrington’s. Light were on inside, and Steve had stared for a while at them before turning to look at Billy. Nervously, in retrospect, Billy thinks. Harrington at glanced back at his house once before leaning over, hand balanced precariously on the gear stick to press a kiss to Billy’s cheek. He remembers flushing, warmth heating his face and Steve’s coy wink as he slid out the Camaro.

Just thinking about Harrington - now synonymous with pretty boy, princess, sweetheart, sugar in Billy’s Steve-addled brain - causes him to lose track.

God. What’s a boy to do?

* * *

Days later finds Steve at the Byers again, dissecting the drawings on the wall. Because they’re a map. It makes sense. Somehow. Steve isn’t quite sure.  The entire gang is crowded around the table, reminiscent of the night things truly started going to shit. Billy is a warm presence at his side. He tunes out the conversation for the most part, the kids far too intelligent and talking a mile a minute. El looks about as lost as he is. He finally pays attention when Dustin starts talking. Steve wants to laugh when he opens the Dungeon and Dragon’s guide, he really does, but Dustin is smart and knows what he’s talking about.

“So this, mind flamer thing –“ Nancy starts, only to get cut off by Dustin’s correction of _flayer, mind flayer._

“It thinks it’s some kind of master race,” Dustin continues.

“Oh – like the Germans?”  
  
Dustin looks at him askance, and from next to him Billy laughs, “You mean the Nazis, right, princess?”  
  
Steve flushes, “Yeah, yeah, that.”

He’s certain that it’s Hopper who disguises his laugh as a cough. Steve can’t help but think if it’s over his stupidity or the pet name.

Both Mike and Lucas explain that the mind flayer seeks to destroy anything it considers inferior, and really, can anyone actually blame Steve for his sarcastic comments?

They quickly move on to figuring out how to kill the thing. It becomes apparent that no one knows what they’re doing. Hopper and Mike, once again, almost devolve into a screaming match. From the corner of his eye he sees Billy bristle once Hopper admits to waiting for military support. Steve makes an aborted move to stop Billy from stepping forward and lashing out at Hop again, only to stop at Joyce’s return.  

“They’re right,” she says, and Steve’s heart almost breaks at her tone. “We have to kill it. I want to kill it.”

Steve isn’t sure how he didn’t notice in the first place, that Will isn’t at the table with them. He remembers that Dustin had mentioned it yesterday – that Will had collapsed again. It makes Joyce’s statement that much _more_.

Then it clicks, at least for Mike. He’s turning to Will, comatose on the couch, and saying, “That’s what he meant. We have to close the gate to kill the mind flayer.”

“But how?” Max asks.

That’s the million-dollar question.  
  
Both Hopper and Joyce veto doing anything about closing the gate tonight. It’s a wise decision, Steve thinks, looking at the kids huddled around the table still. Steve long since gave up trying to figure out what they were talking about. Billy’s disappeared again, but that isn’t surprising.

Steve drifts off, unnoticed by everyone as he slips out of the room. He checks the backyard first, expecting to find Billy on the steps again. When there’s no sign of him at all, Steve walks around the house. Billy’s leaning against the front of the Camaro, cigarette smoke curling around his head.

“Hey,” Steve says, inanely, like they hadn’t just seen each other.

Billy flicks his smoke, “Hey, pretty boy.”

Steve stands an awkward distance away, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, toying with the packet of Marlboro’s. Billy looks at him. There’s a questioning look to his expression, like he can’t quite understand why Steve is shuffling nervously. But surely Billy gets it – they kissed only days ago and barely have had a chance to even talk about it. Steve wants to bite the bullet, ask what it meant, but he can’t bring himself to do it.

“What’s going on up there?” Billy jerks his head towards the house. “They figure out how to close this gate yet?”

“No, not yet.”

Billy hums. The cigarette is burnt down to the filter, cherry red end bright. Steve takes a step forward.

“Billy,” he says, “I – we should talk.”

He doesn’t mean for it to sound so serious, but it must, because Billy’s eyes narrow on his underneath the dull light that spills from the house. Steve can barely see, but it’s enough to see the way Billy tenses. Guilt spreads with uneasiness and _I didn’t mean it like_ that on the tip of his tongue.

“If this is about Tommy then we don’t,” Billy says, instantly defensive.

Steve had completely forgotten about that. Completely. Had slipped his mind almost as soon as he’d failed to receive an answer from Billy. Of course, he heard what was being said at school. It’s not like Steve isn’t well acquainted with how popularity works, after all. But he also stopped giving a fuck about rumours a long time ago.

“No, no, it’s not that. I couldn’t care less about what Tommy did. Or whatever the gossip says. I meant, about the other day. When we were at the cliff, in the quarry.”

Billy goes quiet. He shifts, pushing off the car and moving towards Steve. He stops just in front of him, within arm’s reach. “What’s there to talk about?”

Steve can’t even interpret that – if it’s meant as a joke, or another defence mechanism, or if it’s meant to be some kind of admission to what’s between them. He’s sick of waiting. It’s been long enough. Fuck it if anyone over hears them.

“We kissed, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

Steve watches Billy watching him. Blue eyes flickering over his face. He can barely breath. Apprehension sinks its claws into his chest and tell him this was a bad idea. Then, Billy’s expression softens, corner of his mouth lifting into a smile. 

“I don’t regret it.”

Relief floods through him. It’s just what he needed to hear, the right string of words that make hope blossom through him. The slightest chance that they could be more – together.

“Oh, thank God,” Steve says breathlessly, laughing, and then without thinking, “I really want to kiss you again.”

Billy reaches out a hand, settling it on Steve’s hip, using it to tug his forward and out of the light. Steve’s heart is racing. Billy tugs him hard enough that Steve stumbles into his chest. Another hand reaches up to steady him, this only curling into his jacket at the waist. Billy looks in his eye, so open and without a single reservation.

“Good,” Billy whispers, barely an inch between them. “Because I really want to kiss you again, too.”

Steve lifts a hand, gently tipping Billy’s chin down, and kisses him. His hand slides up to cup Billy’s jaw. Fingers curl into blonde hair, tugging ever so slightly. Billy moans, too loudly this close to the house, and Steve draws back.

As far as second kisses go, it’s pretty fucking good, Steve thinks.  

Billy looks down at him through his eyelashes, blinking slowly, before dipping his head to press his lips to Steve’s. Hand’s tug at him, Billy walking backwards as they kiss, pulling Steve away from the house and into the darkness.

“Sugar,” Billy mumbles against his lips, Steve gasping at the name and the way it curls through him with reverence. “Someone’ll come looking for us soon.”  
  
“Let them.”  
  
Billy chuckles, but draws back nonetheless, hands now clasped together at the small of Steve’s back. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t have too. Steve knows just as well that eventually Dustin or Max will try find them.

“C’mon,” Billy says, unwinding his arms from around Steve’s waist, already in motion towards the house.

Steve catches his arm, turns him back around. “Billy, wait.”

Billy doesn’t say anything, just watches him, question in his eyes.

“We’re, I mean,” Steve stumbles. “What are we?”

“What are we?”

Steve nods his head, suddenly too anxious to even speak. Months of dancing around each other leading up to this very point and Steve can’t even fucking breath.

Billy looks confused, but then it’s like dawn breaking as a grin lights his face.

“Are you asking me if we’re together?”

“I guess,” Steve says, in the smallest possible voice he can muster, head turning so he doesn’t have to see Billy’s reaction.

He can tell that Billy is aware of how vulnerable he is in this moment. Billy shakes his arm loose, this time catching Steve’s face and looking him in the eye.

Billy’s lips find his cheek, then his forehead, the tip of his nose, his other cheek, before finally tipping forward to rest his temple against Steve’s. It’s so oddly tender. Romantic in a way that Steve wasn’t expecting at all but has his cheeks turning red and his heart skipping.

“Yeah, Steve,” Billy says, fingers curling against his jaw. “We’re together.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me and the wild timeline are back baby, hope it was worth the wait. its almost midnight so if there's any typos lets blame it on that. yet another drastically short update but i promise the last two chaps will be long af. thank you so much for 250 kudos; i can't even begin to explain how much it means to me. tentatively promising that aqof should be completely done within at least the next month or two. until then x


	8. (promise you'll keep) walking away

Winter break is edging up on Steve, and then suddenly it’s here. It’s barely a week out. A handful of days until Christmas. Something, hovering at the edge of his conscious awareness, turns through him like keening anticipation, an uneasy and unwanted feeling.

Billy convinces him into going to a house party. The whole thing reminds him of Nancy, the way Billy had asked; desperate for a break from school, from home, from the Upside Down. Steve’s craved it a little, too, truth be told. The need to be a normal teenager for just one night. They arrive separately, Steve showing up much later than his _boyfriend_. The word tingling with joy in his mind. The music thumps through the floor up his spine, and yeah, sure, Steve misses this. He misses losing himself in an alcoholic haze, misses dancing and feeling alive.

They’re on opposite sides of the room when the music changes. Billy dancing with some nameless girl who won’t go home with him and Steve in a corner, sipping his drink like it shields him from everyone else. 

It’s starts off with a piano, and then Bonnie Tyler croons through the speakers. Steve thinks _turn around, bright eyes_ is oddly fitting in the moment, as he watches Billy sway with the girl. They look awkward, but Steve can't tell if he’s projecting his new-found assuredness of their relationship onto the scene. Then the drums kick in, and Billy looks up, catching his eye, so quick that Steve isn’t entirely sure Billy was unaware of him.

Billy tilts his head back, each movement sultry, eyes half lidded and mouths along, _every now and then I fall apart._

He’s dancing with another girl but he’s looking directly at Steve. It sends a thrill done his spine. Something that says Billy is _his_. Steve raises an eyebrow, because usually it pisses Billy off, but his boyfriend’s face lights with a wolfish grin. _I need you now tonight, and I need you more than ever, and if you only hold me tight, we’ll be holding on together_ wash over Steve as Billy continues to stare, each word curling his mouth into a smile.

And Steve can’t really take it – the meaning behind the lyrics, the way he’s drawn to every move Billy makes, as he looks at Steve like  _that_ , too many emotions and not enough all at once – so he flees the room, escaping outside to the back of the house. The music is muffled, but the lyrics play in Steve’s head like gospel.

Steve presses his back into the wall, the cool brick grounding him.

A door slams, and Steve knows it’s Billy. Had felt his boyfriend’s eyes follow him out of the room. Billy rounds the corner, hips slightly swaying to the music even now.

“Fancy seeing you here, Harrington,” He says, grinning, as he comes to stand in front of Steve. 

“Such a coincidence,” Steve snarks back.

_Nothing I can say, total eclipse of the heart_ plays from the house and Billy gets a look in his eye. He grabs Steve’s hand, twinning their fingers together, and says, “Dance with me, sugar.”

Steve _melts_ , can’t ever say no when Billy calls him that. Let’s himself be pulled away from the wall and into Billy’s arms. Billy’s hands are on his hips, his fingers warm against Steve’s skin where his shirt has ridden up. Steve drapes his arms over Billy’s shoulder. His fingers play with Billy’s blonde hair, tangling in the curls as Billy tips his head back.

Steve presses a kiss to Billy’s chin, head dipping to trace his lips down Billy’s neck. He mouths _together we can take it to the end of the line_ into the hollow of his throat where his collarbones meet before pressing a kiss there too. Billy tips his head forward, eye’s dancing when he catches Steve’s mouth in a kiss. It’s a slow, languid slide of lips, Billy’s tongue silky smooth as it brushes over Steve’s. He could get drunk off the taste, Billy’s usual vodka bursting over his tongue and mixing into the tanginess of his beer. Billy bites gently into his lower lip and Steve moans, his hands clutching at Billy’s shoulders.

Billy pulls back and his deep, husky voice rumbles between them as he sings against Steve’s lips, “ _your love is like a shadow on me all of the time.”_

Steve’s heart skips a beat. 

He rests their foreheads together, eyes sliding shut. Billy nudges his nose, their lips barely touching.

“ _I really need you tonight_ ,” Billy sings, the words ghosting over Steve’s mouth.

They sway together, Billy’s fingers digging ever so slightly into his hips. Steve tangles a hand in Billy’s hair, pulling the other boy forward to kiss him again. The song fades out, _nothing I can say a total eclipse of the heart_. Steve catches Billy’s eyes, electric blue sparking with _want_.

“Steve, sweetheart,” Billy presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You drive me wild.”

Steve breaths in, a sharp sound, and –

A door slams. They break away from each other.

It’s comic, the way they spring apart and the panic that crosses Billy’s face. Before Steve can realise what’s happening, Billy shoves his hand into his jacket pocket and pulls out the ever-present pack of Marlboro’s. The Southern Cross engraved lighter appears, and Billy flicks it open as someone rounds the corner.

It’s Tommy and Carol.

Because _of course_ it fucking is.

There’s a tense moment where all four of them are silent. Billy’s cigarette burns bright, the flame of the lighter still flickering.

“Well, fancy seeing you two here,” Tommy says, and beside him Carol snickers.

It’s the same tone as Billy’s greeting, eerily so, and shivers rack across Steve’s shoulders. Billy snaps the lighter close. Tommy looks at Carol, mirth crossing his face. Steve, for all that he once was as Tommy’s best friend, cannot read his expression.

“Hey, Steve,” Carol says, and it throws Steve off so badly he almost laughs.

“Hi, Carol,” he parrots back in the same sickly-sweet, goody-two-shoes tone. Beside him Billy muffles a laugh and tension trains out of his frame ever so slightly.

“Haven’t seen you around lately, Billy.” Tommy says, ignoring Steve. “What’s up with that?”

“Not that it’s any of your fucking business, but I’ve been busy.”

“Yeah? Busy messing around with your bitch, huh?” Tommy tips his head towards Steve, the implication of his phrase clear.

“What the hell, Tommy?” Steve says. Beside him, Billy goes stiff.

Carol giggles like she’s in on some secret, and Steve guesses she is because the next words out of Tommy’s mouth are, “You know, can’t help but wonder if the rumours are true.”

Steve’s stomach _sinks_.

“Nancy fucking Wheeler all over again huh? But this time it’s  _you_ , Steve. Common denominator of tearing people apart,” Tommy continues, tone harsh, full of spite and unrelenting. “Happened with Barb, happened with us. Just an endless cycle.”

That _stings_. Ironically so, Steve thinks idly. A year ago it was Tommy spouting the same shit about Nancy and Steve going off in the parking lot. The difference – and really, is there even one? Tommy’s made his opinion abundantly clear, that Steve is to fault for all of this. The difference now, is that it’s somehow _worse_. Because it’s him and Tommy was once his best friend who knew everything about him. And after all this time, Tommy knows exactly where to push where it hurts. He knows that Steve blames himself for the way things got between Nancy and Barb. Knows that Steve hasn’t forgiven himself for it, either.

Steve can’t help but think that maybe he is to blame for the fall out of their friendship. For its current state with any hope of reconciliation now burnt to ashes at their feet.

Can’t help but wonder if he’ll fuck it all up with Billy, too.

Carol looks up, catching Steve's eye. A police siren splits the air. Steve throws a panicked glance at Billy, who’s staring down Tommy and Carol as if looks could kill. Flashes of red and blue fill the corner of his vision.

Steve catches Billy’s wrist, tugging him backwards away from the house, “Billy, let’s go!”

Tommy yells something unintelligible behind them as they run. The wailing of the siren drowns him out. Steve throws a glance over his shoulder. Carol and Tommy disappear off in the other direction, and Steve remembers a similar night when the three of them escaped from Amanda’s end of year bash after her parents got home earlier than planned.

They break out across the grass, hands clasped and feet skidding.  The thumping music cuts off abruptly. Red, blue, red, blue flash across his eyes, the colours filling the backyard. They reach the fence, both of them scrambling and slipping against the wood. Steve can’t tell if the sharp pressure in his ribs is Billy’s knee or if it’s the fear of being caught. The absolute last thing he needs is getting arrested because of a stupid party. 

They run down the street, in the opposite direction of the house, the police, _and_ Steve’s car. He can hear the break up of the party. Hopper’s distorted voice loud over the megaphone. Steve can see the Camaro in the distance, a dark shadow amongst the greys and browns of every other car on the street.

Steve comes to an abrupt stop. He doesn’t realise their still holding hands until his arm jerks forward as Billy continues.

He wants to say something – about Tommy and his accusations, about Carol and how she said nothing at all and how that _doesn’t make sense,_ about how Steve couldn’t even defend himself because it’s all _true_. Billy pivots on his heel, swinging back around to look at Steve. Steve thinks this is the romcom moment of looking into his blue eyes and the world rights itself again. But it’s not. It’s anything but. It’s the so familiar feeling of anxiety cresting through him in waves. It's the thought of Hopper catching them together and the consequences of _that_ in light of their confrontation with Tommy. 

“Steve,” Billy says, turning, his fingers falling from Steve’s grip. “C’mon.”

* * *

Billy knows from the moment that the kids convince Steve – and by proxy, himself – that checking on the farm was a bad idea. Here now, bathed in the lights of his car, the field looks all but abandoned. Police tape lines the side of the fence, cones marking out the gaping sinkhole.  

He doesn’t even begin to think where the fuck the kids even heard of this place. But the lack of Will, Mike and Eleven is suspicious. He over hears something about tunnels and drawings and wonders if it has any correlation to those pictures on the Byers’ walls, way back when he first got pulled into this mess.

“This is a stupid idea,” Steve says next to him. “We shouldn’t have come here.”

Billy turns over the idea of agreeing, because _it is_ , but they both know the kids won’t give up trying to solve this mystery. And it’d be a lie to say that Billy doesn’t want to know either.

“Nah. It’ll be fine.”  


“ _It’ll be fine_ – “

“Steve.” Billy says, turning blue eyes on him. “You would’ve agreed eventually, you’re just as curious as Dustin.”

Steve fluster, and Billy feels smug. It’s always good to know that he’s _right_ , that he can read Steve just as easily as Steve seems to read him. In front of them, the kids inch closer to the police tape.

“What if I just pushed them in?”

Billy’s only half joking. Steve doesn’t even deign him with a reply. They walk over to the kids, standing just behind them. Max hangs back as Lucas and Dustin peer over the edge and down into the earth. Distantly, Billy processes that the hole is fucking _huge_ and standing so close to it is not a good idea.

“How about I jump down?” He muses, just to see if Steve’ll react. It’s definitely the wrong thing to say, because Steve _explodes_.

“No - what the _fuck_ , Billy? Why would you even suggest that? _Do not_ get any ideas, Dustin." Steve swings around from Henderson, who looks somewhat offended, to stare Billy dead in the eye. "You're so fucking reckless."  

_You're so fucking reckless._ It's a loaded statement, one that Steve could truly tear him apart with. One that Billy would probably relish in, because Steve is gorgeous when he's fired up and Billy doesn't know how to back down. It doesn't help that Steve isn't _wrong_.

“Don’t be like that, sweetheart,” Billy says, all condescending sarcasm as Steve pushes past him.

“Guys, what –“ Max starts, but Billy’s too concerned with the veritable fireball walking away from him.

“I swear to _God_ , Hargrove,” Steve says, turning, and Billy loves the way his name rolls off Steve’s tongue, even in anger. “Shut the fuck up.”

Billy smirks, “Aye, princess.”

Steve shoves him.

It’s a gut reaction for him to reach out and bring Steve down with him.

Into the gaping hole in the middle of some fucking farm.

Distantly, he hears someone scream. He thinks, _reckless,_  a match made in heaven. 

One minute it feels like they’re free falling. Nothing to hold, no moment to think this could be the last.

And yet –

The realisation that he is in love with Steve moves through him like a shockwave. He hadn’t considered it – hadn’t thought about it at all. He feels giddy with it, emotion brimming over the top, laughter spilling from his lips. It’s stupid, he should’ve known, all the signs are there. From the very first time they had a civil conversation to that first, tentative kiss in the quarry.  

Billy, desperately, doesn’t want to think about the _what ifs_. What would’ve happened if they hadn’t been interrupted that night by Tommy and Carol. Would this revelation have come around any differently? Billy thinks of warm, shower-damp skin pressed against his, the way he whispers sugar against Steve’s abdomen. Thinks about how Steve melts into him every time Billy call his him that. How that in turn causes warmth to spread through him. How affection slips out between every kiss and moan and breath. Decidedly doesn’t think about how things have been _odd_ between them since the party, the uneasy air that seems to hover around Steve. Billy can tell that Tommy threw him off, but he hadn’t imagined it to be so bad.

They hit the ground in a rush, a solid impact against the dirt. Billy can barely move quick enough so as to avoid his elbow digging into Steve’s sternum.

“Steve,” he coughs, winded.

There’s no reply. Dread runs its icy fingers over the nape of his neck, tingling and causing anxiety to fill his gut.

Someone shines the torch down on them. In the bright light something reflects off the ground.

It’s blood, pooling around Steve’s head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> puts off writing to focus on uni > procrastinates uni by writing fanfic > repeat 
> 
> i am honestly not entirely happy? with this chapter but i literally have no idea w h y. so apologies if it seem..... off. but now there's only one chapter left??? which, oh my god. i'm excited for it


	9. to a world on fire

He’s drifting.

Suspended, like in a dream, gravity unknown. Off balance.

Steve feels like he’s underwater. Feeling comes back to him in stages. First, it’s the press of his body against the ground, hard when he presses his shoulders back. Then, it’s a sharp, splitting pain behind his eyes and into a headache.

The ground beneath him vibrates. Hazy mind thinks that maybe the ground shouldn’t be doing that. Eye’s blink open, squinting against the harsh light of the lamp post. Steve lifts his head, barely, a small movement that has his eyes rolling back in pain.

He can hear someone in the distance. Possibly Dustin. The ground continues to shake.

“Steve!”

He groans.

“Harrington, for fuck’s sake.” Is that Billy? “ _Wake the fuck up.”_

“He can’t hear you, moron.” That’s definitely Dustin.

His ears are buzzing. Everything sounds distorted. Steve tries to sit up, but his head spins and he folds in on himself. Doubled over, Steve almost falls off the seat, and it’s then when he realises he's in the Camaro.

_How the fuck._

Steve can’t make any sense of it.  
  
The last thing he remembers is yelling at Billy. He can’t remember why – probably something stupid – but with sudden clarity he sees himself pushing Billy backwards, Billy’s hand catching his shirt. Both of them tumbling down into that fucking hole. The exact thing that they’d been arguing about.

Steve chokes out a sound, something intelligible that has Dustin trying to lift him up from the floor of the car. Steve doesn’t understand.

He can’t figure out how he got here, how they got him out of the pit he pushed Billy into; and God, the thought of _that_ , of him being a physical danger to Billy when Steve promised himself he would move mountain and sky to protect him. It’s so gut-wrenching Steve feels ill. And it’s not like Steve doesn’t know that the kids are resourceful – they’d have to be, after everything. It’s the thought of him there, laying helpless to whatever threat faces the kids, that has chills running down his spin.

"What happened?"Steve asks himself for at least the third time. He doesn’t realise he’s spoken out loud until the only sound is the engine. The eerie silence is so unsettling Steve tenses.

He swings his gaze to Dustin, who has never failed him, and hopes to God he can read the desperate look in the dim light.

“Billy grabbed you after you pushed him.” Dustin says. “You hit your head.”

The way Dustin is speaking is stilted. Like he’s talking around a lump in his throat, some kind of distant, detached way Steve can’t remember hearing Dustin ever sound like. Later, Steve will realise just how harrowing it must have been for the lot of them to see him injured. Later, Lucas will mention offhandedly that Dustin saw the entire thing and Steve won’t forgive himself for that, for allowing himself to scare him like that. Later, Billy will tell him of how seeing all that blood, of the raw scream that tore from his throat and how, for a heart stopping moment, he thought Steve was dead.

“We had to use rope and the car to get you out,” Max cuts in, with that aforementioned resourcefulness. Somehow, her explanation doesn’t make it any clearer.

“Where are we going?”

“Hospital,” Max says, as if it’s obvious.

“No,” he says groggily. “We have to go back.”

Steve knows what’s at stake. Regardless of the fact that he doesn’t want to do this, Hopper didn’t almost die in the very same tunnels for him to back out now, all because he got a bump on the head.

“Steve…”

His name from Billy’s lips sounds like something akin to a prayer. It’s the first time he’s spoken at all since Steve regained full consciousness. Steve’s never heard his voice sound so desperate before. 

“Steve’s right,” Lucas says and Dustin agrees.

“He probably has a concussion!” Max argues. 

“Yeah, and he’s still right.”

Max in the passenger seat turns her body around, staring Steve dead in the eye. She gives him an inscrutable look. Steve can’t make heads or tails of it, not in this still hazy mindset. He can’t see much of Billy, angle awkward enough as it is. Steve almost doesn’t want to know what he’s thinking, but he knows Billy too well. Anger radiates off him, as it so often does, but there’s fear hidden in the way his jaw clenches, and Steve thinks of it as a question of faith; this way that he and Billy collide and complement each other. How they trust each other so implicitly in the way they bare their emotions. In the way that they're half agony, half hope.   
  
Billy spins the car around and drives back to the farm, though it’s clear he doesn’t want to. When they get out, Steve has Billy whispering his name in that reverent tone ringing in his head. And maybe it’s that, coupled with the concussion he no doubt has that makes him reach out and catch Billy’s arm. Billy stops, turning around to look at him and Steve can’t help himself, just tugs Billy closer and slides his arms around his waist. Billy stiffens, and Steve notices that the kids are quiet but, fuck it, Billy sounded _scared_.

“Billy,” he says, voice cracking ever so softly over his name.

Somehow, it’s enough. Billy wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders, tension bleeding from his frame. Steve feels dry lips against his temple.

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” Billy whispers back.  

Something eases inside him at Billy’s words. The reassurance that he is, in fact, shaken; that Steve means as much to Billy as Billy does to him. They stand there for a moment. Steve doesn’t want to let go, doesn’t want to turn around and face the kids. Doesn’t want to try to explain what Billy means, what this moment means, what anything to do with this absolutely infuriating man in his arms means.

Fleeting panic rushes through him at the thought of explaining any of it.

Billy’s mentioned – Max, knowing that something’s up. But as Steve turns around, he thinks _friends don’t lie_. Even if it’s something like this – the fact of his sexuality aside – it’s Billy. It’s not like it’s been easy, for any of them, to get to this point. For them to trust Billy with this secret even if it’s was only because of Steve’s stubbornness at the start. He knows that Billy’s made strides with the kids. Sees it in the way Dustin will lose himself in a battle of wits, or how Max no longer shuts down when Billy's around. It’s a point of pride for Steve that Dustin usually wins; and he can’t even explain how happy he is for Max and Billy.

 _Friends don’t lie_ and Steve would never want to. Not about Billy.

He turns around, holding his breath, mind going a mile a minute as to what to say and –

“ _Finally!_ ”

Steve can’t, stumbles over his words, “Dust- what? Dustin?”

“What?” Dustin replies, picture of innocence. Lucas laughs. Max rolls her eyes.

“What do you mean, _finally_?” Exasperation seeps through Steve’s voice.

“It’s not like you’re subtle, Steve. You do remember we all saw you date Nancy, right? You get all hazy-eyed when you’re in love.”

Steve stands dumbstruck; Dustin continues, “Also, I saw you two kissing out the front of Will’s the other night.”

Steve can’t even breath. Of course they got caught. He turns to Billy, and he knows how he must look right now – thinking of the possibility that they haven’t been as careful as they thought. The smallest possibility that it could have been Neil. 

“Jesus Christ, princess,” Billy huffs, barely containing a smile, and Steve knows he’s fine.

The kids _know_ and it’s fine. It honestly feels like a weight off his chest.

“But, Hargrove,” Dustin says, and God, Steve does not like that look. “Don’t hurt him.”

It’s eerie, the way they all go silent at Dustin’s words. Steve would laugh if it was anyone else, anywhere else. Steve’s watching Billy, who’s staring at Dustin. His face is set. It’s a blank look that Steve can’t read. Steve thinks of how this is a parallel, almost, of him protecting the kids way back in the beginning, and wonders if Billy is thinking that too. Billy breaths in, so close to him that Steve feels the brush of Billy’s jacket against his arm. He breaths out.

“That’s fair, Henderson,” Billy says.

Billy doesn’t say anything more. For that, Steve is glad.

“Now that we’ve all established that Steve’s dating my brother,” Max says, and Steve realises with a start it’s the first time he’s ever heard her refer to Billy as  _her brother_. “We’ve got shit to do. C’mon, assholes.”  

He doesn’t miss the soft, gentle smile that Billy gives Max.

* * *

Billy hates that they’re doing this. Hates that Steve is right, hates that they made him turn back instead of driving on to the hospital because Steve is clearly in need of medical help -  
  
He can’t get the sight of blood pooling around Steve’s head. Red, everywhere. It had taken Max yelling down at him to kick his ass into gear, who pegged the shitty blanket from his car at him. He scrambled to grab it, to press it against the back of Steve’s head. Heart-stopping, is the only way he can describe it, the way he forgot to breath, at seeing Steve prone on the ground. Concocting a plan to get Steve out with the rope around his waist and hooked to the car. God -

Then again, how many times has Billy told himself that no one can make him do anything?

They move through the tunnels with anticipation. Steve at the front, Will’s map in hand, and Billy bringing up the rear. Billy’s never seen anything like it – the greyish, bluish vines that grow and twist out from the ground. The roots glisten in the same sickening way as the demodogs. He doesn’t want to know what happens if they’re touched.

In front of him the kids look around wildly. There’s so much to see – and not, at the same time – but they’re kids and two of them have been here since the start. Billy wonders what is going through Dustin and Lucas’ head, right now. How do these tunnels relate to the demodogs, to the mind-flayer, to El? All Billy can think is how is any of it possible. Even after all this time, he still can’t quite believe it’s real.

The plan – which Billy had found out barely two minutes ago, in the kids’ desperate attempt to get him to turn around – is to burn the tunnels. To burn the tunnels and draw away the demodogs from some mysterious Gate that El is trying to close.

The tins of gasoline the kids shoved into his car make much more sense now.

The kids talk nonsensically as they walk. Most days, Billy wonders if they realise how monumental this all is. Proof that the government is fucking around with people’s heads and lives and families. Not to mention the fact that they're all tied by non-disclosure agreements and if Billy even breathed a word of this to the newspapers, it'd put everyone at risk. 

Billy still hasn’t been able to shake the moment he realised that El was something of a kindred soul. Steve’s quiet words on the porch steps ring in his head. For all that he didn’t say and for all the Billy knew to fill in the blanks. El is a person he can relate to, however backwards either of their situations are. He hasn’t spoken to El yet, not about this, but knowing is a quiet comfort. Billy sees the way she is stronger than her trauma and wishes he could be, too.

It makes hiking through the tunnels worth it.

They’ve been walking long enough that Billy is sure they’ve circled around twice. At least, he thinks so. He can barely see out of the goggles and everything looks the same.

The kids have fallen behind him, slowly trudging, and Steve hasn’t once turned around. Billy reaches an arm out, prepared to stop Steve, to ask if he’s okay –  
  
Someone screams.

It splits the air, ear piercing. There’s a flurry of movement as he and Steve swing around, running over to find Dustin on the floor.

“It’s in my mouth!” Dustin’s voice is pitched so high Billy’s surprised he can even hear him. “I’m gonna die!”

Dustin turns away from their flashlights, retching. All Billy can hear is mismatched voices asking if he’s okay.

He turns back around, and Billy instantly rolls his eyes at the look on Dustin’s face. “I’m fine, I’m okay.”  
  
“Seriously?” Max sighs, to the agreement of everyone else. “Jesus, what an idiot.”  
  
They walk off. Dustin scrambles to follow. Beside him now, Steve looks down at the map. In the dull light Billy can make out a wide circle of blue. As they come to an opening, Steve looks up. Billy follows his gaze. In front of them is a massive cavern, entrances to other tunnels splitting off in every direction. Light shines ominously from them.  

“I think we found that hub Mike was talking about.” He says, as if it makes perfect sense. “Time to get to work.”

At that, they spread out, pouring copious amounts of gasoline along the walls, the vines, anywhere and everywhere. The smell hits, and Billy is glad for the cloth around his neck. They pour until there’s nothing left, tracking gasoline all the way back to the entrance in the field.

They’ve barely left the hub when something growls.

A demodog, crouched and staring at Dustin. He trips backwards and it growls again. Dustin freezes.

Billy flashes back to that night in the junkyard, his palm biting into the crowbar, terrified out of his mind.

“Dart?”

 _Of course_ it’s Henderson’s pet fucking demodog.

“Trust me,” Dustin says over everyone else. “Please.”

They fall silent. Billy watches as the demodog moves forward. Dustin doesn’t flinch, instead talking to it, reassuring it or himself Billy isn't sure.

“Will you let us pass?” Dustin asks.

Dart snarls. Loud. They all flinch back. Steve lofts the nail-bat in front of him, ready to strike.

“Okay – okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry about the storm cellar,” Dustin says, moving his bag around slowly.

“Storm cellar?” Billy whispers as the same time that Lucas says, “He’s insane.”

“Shut up,” Max says, wacking Lucas in the stomach.

Dustin pulls a chocolate bar out of his bag, unwrapping it. Billy stifles a laugh. Monster from hell that eats Three Musketeers bars is too much to deal with. Dart leans forward, munching on the bar, oblivious to Dustin, who gestures at them to move.

They move on.

They’re in the tunnel beneath the entrance when Billy hears it. The distant rumbling of the demodogs.

“Do you guys hear that?” He asks.

“Hear what?”

There’s a guttural growl, close enough that Billy flinches, “That.”

“ _Run!_ ”

They scramble. Lucas pushes past him, Billy knocks into the wall. The slime sticks to him. Max and Dustin rush past. Steve follows, wrenching him off the wall. Billy grasps at Steve’s hand as they spirt towards the exit. The rope dangles in front of them.

Lucas stops, giving Max a leg up. She’s out first.  
  
“Lucas, c’mon,” she yells, her hand reaching to help him.

The noise from the demodogs grow louder.

“Shit,” Steve says, the same moment that Billy sees the shadow on the wall. More than one.

“Dustin,” Billy grabs him, pushing him behind Steve and towards the rope. “Go!”

“Come on!” Lucas yells.

Steve swings the bat around, rolling it towards his shoulder. Billy can see Dustin from the corner of his eye, stock still. Billy steps forward, grip tight around the crowbar as the demodogs rounds the corner and –

And nothing.

Hundreds. Hundreds of demodogs run past them, pushing at their legs as they dash towards whatever draws them.

It’s all over in two seconds.

“What the fuck?”  
  
The rest are silent at Billy’s words. Shock fills the air. None of them expected for that to happen. And yet it did.

“Let’s get out of here,” Steve says, and helps Dustin up the rope.

Dustin scrambles up, but before either Steve or Billy have a chance, he says, “I hope this gives Eleven a chance.”

Billy knows they’re all thinking it. He and Steve climb out in silence.

They gather around the entrance. Billy across from Steve, next to Max. Steve pulls a lighter of his pocket.

The sticky heat of the tunnels reminds Billy of California, which reminds him of home. Bondi, in the blistering heat, waves rolling around him in clandestine chaos.

Expect lately, when he thinks of home it’s messy hair and warm brown eyes and Marlboro Reds tucked into a jacket pocket. So maybe the tunnels don’t remind him of home, but they tell him what is now.

Steve throws the lighter. The tunnels beneath them go up in flames. 

* * *

Steve’s mind wanders back to a year ago, him and Nancy curled up on the couch together.

It’s only been a year, but it feels like a life time.

Somehow, inexplicably, it’s this:

They’re leaning against the Camaro, standing slightly too close together but Steve couldn’t care less. Billy’s leather jacket is warm, smells like eucalyptus and Marlboro Reds. Steve huddles into it. He can’t remember when or where he got a hold of it. 

No one’s told Steve what happened yet, how Eleven stopped the Mind Flayer or how Will got better. And maybe he doesn’t want to know the full extent. Steve’s content with knowing that things are better now.

Dustin hadn’t stopped talking once on the drive over. He was so excited for the Snowball. Steve can’t remember the last time he saw the kid so happy.

“The kids are all going back to yours, right?” Billy says, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, we’ll need both of our cars.”

Billy hums in response, “Whose idea was this again?”  
  
Steve hides a grin in the collar of Billy’s jacket. It was his. Except Billy doesn’t know that, so it’ll stay that way.

“Don’t know.”  
  
Billy turns to him, shifting away, and Steve instantly misses his warmth, “You don’t know, Steve?”  
  
“Nope,” he replies, popping the p. He can already tell that Billy’s caught him out.

“Right.” Billy draws out the word. “Of course, you don’t.”

Billy settles back next to him, slinging an arm around Steve’s shoulders. Steve knows it’s a bad idea, this close to the school. He’s happy, and if he wants to rest his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder, then he will, goddammit.

There’s barely anyone else out here now. They'd watch nearly all the parents speed off, eager for a night without their children. Steve spies Hopper’s truck further down. He wonders how Eleven’s been doing. He’s only heard bits and pieces from the kids. That she seems okay. But Steve is intimately familiar with seeming okay and actually being okay. Hopefully he’ll get the chance to speak to her tonight.

It’s quiet, Steve thinks. It’s nice.

“Come on, sugar,” Billy murmurs, casually dropping Steve’s favourite nickname, pulling away from him.

Billy walks him back to his car. Their shoulders brush every few steps. Steve unlocks the Beamer and turns to Billy.

“I’ll see you later, then.”  
  
“Yeah, have fun getting all that pizza for that party you didn’t plan,” Billy grins at him.

Steve rolls his eyes, “Hilarious. I’m sure my parents will thank me for all the cardboard boxes when they get home.”

Billy laughs at that. He reaches out a hand, brushes his fingertips over the leather of his jacket that Steve has on. 

“Take care of my jacket. It’s my favourite one.”  
  
Steve flushes. He was hoping Billy hadn't noticed. Billy always notices, and always has. It's just one of the many reasons why Steve loves him. He'd list them all, but then he'd be here all night. Billy and Steve have come such a long way. The magnitude of _them_ leaves Steve breathless. 

Billy smiles, a soft and unguarded thing that has Steve’s heart flipping over in his chest. 

Steve would give anything to see that every day. 

* * *

Billy’s thought a million times that he’d never get the chance to feel anything like this. To fall in love is a novel concept, and yet, here he is. It’s terrifying. Even after everything they’ve been through. After going from downright rivals to tentative friends to blowing all caution to the wind. Billy thinks that kissing Steve that day in the quarry, underneath that glowing sunset, was both his best and worst mistake.

Billy thinks about the running gag they have with his confident princess and Steve’s often mumbled my prince. Somehow its more intimate than if Steve had conceded the proverbial throne with my king. It’s a rather poignant description of their relationship; it’s hilarious but so meaningful and everything good that Billy never could’ve imagined he’d ever have. He thinks about how his heart had stopped at the pool of red blossoming from Steve’s head that night they blew up the tunnels and how nothing else seemed to matter than making sure Steve was okay. Thinks about how he hasn’t told Steve _enough_. Hasn’t told him about what happened in California and the reason why the Hargrove-Mayfield shit show ended up in the middle of the country. Hasn’t breathed a word about how things between him and Max got the way they did. How he hates himself for it still, despite their reconciliation. Hasn’t said _why_ he barely talks about his mother but clings to his Australian heritage like it’s a fucking lifeline.

But – he exhales – there will be time.

In the lounge the television makes a god-awful sound. One of the nerds scream. Billy pretends, for a split second, that it wasn’t his boyfriend who suggested up movie night. When he returns with two steaming mugs of cocoa, the kids have all migrated to the couch in one big dog pile. Steve sits in what was originally Max’s chair - a massive, cozy armchair that he could sink into. He sets the cups on the coffee table.

He hesitates, for a spilt second, freezing in a way that’s almost instinctive. _Fuck it_ , he thinks, it’s not like the kids don’t know about them.

Steve blinks up at him in a soft, sleepy way that tugs at Billy’s heart when he stops in front of him. Steve shuffles over without being asked. Instead, Billy reaches a hand out, sliding it through Steve’s hair before tucking a loose strand behind his ear. Then he flops down into the chair, pressed shoulder to knee against his boyfriend. He turns slightly, presses a kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth because he can’t help himself.

“You know I love you, right?” Billy murmurs as he pulls away, quiet enough that only Steve can hear him.

He almost misses the way Steve’s breath catches. It’s the first time he’s said it out loud. It’s been a long time coming, even if they’ve only been properly together for for barely any time at all. This thing between them has been building for months on end. Steve looks over at him, so open and tender that Billy wants to freeze time.

“I know,” Steve says. “I love you, too.”

Billy grins. Steve tangle’s their hands together to pull Billy forward. They kiss, smiling into it, Steve’s nose pressing sharply against his cheek. One of the kids - Dustin, he thinks - yells something that sounds like _get_ _a room_. Billy flips him off blindly, laughing against Steve’s lips.

They’re  _happy_ now, in a way they both thought impossible.

It’s all that matters. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god. a question of faith was originally meant to be a one shot, but evolved ridiculously into a nine chapter piece that i still can't comprehend that i wrote. there has been so many ups and downs in my life while i wrote this and somehow aqof remained a constant i could come back to and i'm both incredibly sad and incredibly happy to see it finished. thank you to everyone who's read, left a comment or kudos. thank you so much.


End file.
